


Habits

by Hanaji_ga_Eren



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, F/M, M/M, Past Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rape, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 51,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanaji_ga_Eren/pseuds/Hanaji_ga_Eren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean is dumped by his high school sweetheart of eight years, and the only way he can cope is by trying to forget. He turns to drugs and booze, parties and brings home strangers to keep him company. Before he knows it, one of his one night stands just keeps showing up in his life, and they become much more than either intended. Jean slowly realizes that he doesn't need the coping mechanisms that he's used so far, as long as Eren's there to make him feel like a person again.</p>
<p>((There's some other pairings in here, but it's a JeanEren fic, I promise!))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Puzzle

**Author's Note:**

> This is http://jeanbeauu.tumblr.com/ 's brainchild. I wrote it for him since he has dicks for fingers and it's really hard to type with them.
> 
> Jean gets his heart broken. Then it's down... down... d  
> o  
> w  
> n.

_“I can't do this anymore.”_

Jean Kirschtein stands at his front door slowly putting together the pieces of a puzzle that seem to be made of glass. He can't tell which piece goes where, there's no picture, only shapes. They all look the same. His brain is frantic.

He can't seem to breathe as just five words cause his entire world to implode like a black hole had ripped into it's center.

He finds his boyfriend standing right in front of him, shouldering a backpack on his right arm and a rather large suitcase on his left. Those big, forgiving, gorgeous brown doe eyes are looking into him, into his soul, and Jean remembers to take a breath for the first time for what seems like hours. 

“What do you mean?” Jean asks dumbly, and he can't remember when Marco began to look at him like this. He can't remember when he forgot to hold his hand. He can't remember when he stopped kissing him goodbye. He can't remember when all those little things that meant so much stopped happening, and worse yet, he can't believe that he didn't notice those things were gone. Jean looks around now at the apartment that they called home for the last few years; the furniture they picked out together, the places they made love. He wills himself to look back at Marco, standing there tall and resolute, and with an expression that makes Jean's stomach churn sickly.

It's pity.

“Jean, I'm sorry. I just.. I can't do this anymore. We're not the same as we used to be. I haven't been happy for a long time. So just.. don't make it any harder than it has to be.” He's right. Those chocolate brown eyes aren't the same ones that used to look at Jean while a sweet voice whispered that he was loved. Those same soft pink lips, swollen from too many deep kisses, would never have said something like this. But Jean can't accept it just like that. They've been together for years, since they were sixteen. Jean knows it can be fixed. They just need to talk about it, like always. 

It feels like his heart is lodged in his throat as he speaks, and it's hard, his fucking voice is shaking and it's pissing him off. “Marco, come on. Just sit down. We can talk about this. We can fix it, you know we can. After everything-”

_“I don't love you anymore.”_

The words echo as though they've been spoken in a room completely empty and bounce off each stark white wall over and over like a nightmare. The fact that it felt as though his entire body had been hit by a freight train was both sickening and terribly cliché, and Jean felt that maybe he actually would puke at that moment. In his daze, he slowly registers the slightly taller man pushing past him to get through the door, and before Jean can even start to stop him, he sees Marco's face close now and it makes him freeze. 

Marco is offering a smile that's painful for the both of them, and Jean sees the redness around his eyes and notes that Marco has probably been crying the entire time he'd been packing to leave. The realization is fleeting as the door shuts before either one of them can say anything more, and Jean's standing there without reacting because all the fucking pieces of this puzzle look the god damn same and he can't put them together no matter how hard he tries. 

He can't seem to breathe as five words tear out his soul and leave him feeling nothing at all.

Jean's numb. He sits on the edge of the bed where he began to forget to kiss Marco goodnight. He looks at the night stand, at a picture of them smiling, and in front of it, the gold band that he'd bought for Marco just last year. It was a promise between the two of them- quiet and loud all at once. Jean looks at the matching band that goes with it on the ring finger of his left hand, and it feels like it's burning the flesh off the very digit where it resides.

Trembling fingers are turning the piece of gold over and over at the base of his own finger, and Jean smiles as he recalls tears staining freckled cheeks when he'd given it's partner to Marco on their anniversary. 

Jean's throat tightens and he wishes to wake up next to Marco with their legs entwined and their arms thrown over each others chests. When he doesn't, his face twists in agony, and he chokes out a sob. He buries his face into the pillows at the top of the bed, hoping to muffle his own disgusting, pitiful, wretched sounds. 

He breathes in and smells Marco, and his sobs grow louder.


	2. Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean meets a tall stranger with gentle eyes who gives him a ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bertl and Jean do it. That's.. that's it. I'm sorry.

It's funny how having someone around you can keep you together. It's disgusting how not having someone around you can make you fall apart. 

It's late, and the music is deafening. This shady little club stinks. It smells like cigarettes and sweat and cheap alcohol but Jean doesn't care because he doesn't have the capacity to. He's thrown back enough drinks that the bar tender has cut him off, and he scoffs as he lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag from it. His head is spinning and he's trying to remember the number to the taxi service when a tall man with dark hair that's been watching him for quite some time now orders him a drink and slips it to him while placing a finger over his own lips to keep it a secret.

Somehow Jean manages conversation with this guy, and he seems pretty out of place. His laughter is almost nervous. He's not drunk, not like Jean. The dusty blond is only barely aware of his surroundings, using what wits he has left to focus on this guy who actually is pretty hot, even without beer goggles. He's tall, really tall, and his shoulders are broad and his hips are slender. He's got cool gray eyes that are more kind than anything else, and his skin is tan. Jean's wondering what it looks like beneath the v-neck t-shirt and jeans he's wearing when he interrupts the tall brunet in the middle of his sentence and asks, “Wanna get out of here?” The taller obliges fervently.

Jean's all hands as the brunet drives them to Jean's place. How he gets there on drunken direction from the shorter is practically a miracle in itself, but Jean's hands are everywhere. It doesn't matter that he's driving, Jean's teasing him and playing with him and nipping at his long neck and squeezing his thighs as he turns into Jean's apartment complex and Jean is aware enough to see that the guy is trying so hard not to fall apart.

They're making out before Jean can even get the front door open, and this guy is already hard, has been since the car. Once they clamber inside, Jean feels palms hot at his ass, and then he's being lifted. His legs wind around this stranger's waist before he realizes how they even made their way to the bedroom and they've been connected at the mouth since making their way inside. 

They're pulling and tugging at clothes when the kiss is broken and the stranger asks Jean if he's got condoms. He sluggishly rolls over to pull open the drawer of his nightstand to grab a condom and a bottle of lube. His eyes catch sight of the frame that still sits there after all these months with the picture of someone that he tries every night to forget, and he smiles bitterly as he lays the frame face down. He suddenly feels too sober.

Jean hands the lube and condom to the dark haired man and reaches into the night stand for a bottle of pills as the taller is rolling the condom on. Popping one into his mouth, he laughs as he's given a quizzical look. “Headache pills,” he lies, but the guy buys it, and soon they're back at it and Jean is feeling high, so fucking high, and fuck this guy is huge and Jean feels so full. He feels like whatever emptiness was there before is being filled up with each punishing thrust. Jean can feel himself drooling as his body is driven into the mattress with each roll of those slender hips. The guy fucking him is really into it, his brows furrowed while Jean's body swallows him up. He sees sweat beading and sliding down the long bridge of the stranger's nose before falling. He feels satisfied that he's the cause of this guy's undone expression. Their bodies are hot and tangled up and they're sweating and panting and loving every minute of this. 

There's a touch, a caress to Jean's face that makes him shudder. “..Are you okay?” The guy is asking, and it sounds sweet. So terribly, familiarly sweet, and Jean cums with Marco's name on his lips, because somehow the guy that was a stranger just twenty minutes before is Marco now, making sure Jean is fine and comfortable and enjoying himself. He cums, too, shuddering and collapsing on the mattress next to the dusty blond, who's trying desperately to regain his breathing. It's become abnormal, and he's having a bad trip because when he looks over and eyes that aren't Marco's are looking at him, Jean feels nauseous and he rolls over to stumble out of bed. 

He manages to make it to the bathroom where he collapses to his knees and wretches into the bathtub. When he finishes, he sits back on his haunches and laughs because this is all so goddamn ridiculous. He sits there for a moment, stewing in his bitterness when a voice calls from behind him, “Maybe I should go?” And Jean just nods, shoots a grin over his shoulder to the taller, and waves him away.

It's been like this for months. Jean hits bars and clubs, drinks until he forgets his own name, gets high any way that he can. He brings home strangers, has sex, and never sees them again. But it's fine because even if it's temporary or fleeting, with all these things he manages to forget that the last nine years of his life unraveled like a poorly knitted sweater. 

Then he wakes up in the morning and finds reality has always been a pretty rude bitch. Some days are easier than others. He has his coffee, reads the paper and goes to work. Other mornings are worse. He makes two helpings of breakfast before he realizes that no one else is going to be eating with him that morning. He throws all of it away without eating a bite himself. 

Jean falls into these habits as though he's tripped into a hole that opens up to the center of the earth, and can't seem to claw his way back out.


	3. Green Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean meets a sexy little thing with big emerald eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dirty talk in this chapter. \ o / Also, please forgive me for the perspective change. I'm so sorry if it was confusing, my writing style is so inconsistent... OTL Also, for the record, Jean is 24 and Eren is 23.

_It's wash, rinse, repeat._

After particularly bad nights, Jean gets up and takes a long shower. He scrubs his skin until it shows red, like the soap can cleanse his bad choices. His head is pounding and he doesn't remember half the night, but he figures if he did, he'd probably be feeling a lot worse off. He washes his hair and tells himself that it can't get any worse, so why try to stop now? What he's doing is getting him through the day, so why does it matter?

He gets out of the shower and sits on the couch in his towel. Clicking on the tv just to have some noise in the apartment, he rolls a blunt and hits it like a champ. The smoke is thick and tastes like shit, it burns all the way to his lungs, but it's still pretty good stuff. By the third hit, he doesn't feel that burn, and he sinks into the couch that suddenly just became a lot softer. 

In that moment he decides that tonight he's going to that big, new, popular club that's all the way across town. It's only been open for a month and Jean's become a regular face at all the hotspots in a twenty mile radius, so why not? The day goes by slow. Or maybe fast. Jean can't really tell how much he's smoked, and before he leaves, he takes a couple pills to ease any anxieties that might make him change his mind. He's grinning before he's even out the door and slips into the cab he's called. At least he's still got mind enough to do that much.

It's a good forty five minute drive to this damn place, and the outside is all lit up in pinks and blues and greens and stupid fake palm trees splattered with LEDs. All the colors blur in Jean's vision, his pupils blown out so full there's barely any iris left, and those colors rise up into great pillars of light and suddenly this place is so inviting. The towers of light are beckoning him forward, and once Jean passes through the doors the nightlife is teeming like thousands of ants scurrying about their anthill. This is one of those really trashy places where people are practically fucking to music that Jean couldn't normally stand. It's that kind of music where you can barely hear words, it's pretty much just a hard bass line and it's so loud that it pounds and vibrates up the soles of your shoes and twists your insides and pumps your heart in time with it's deep throb without asking for your permission. 

He makes his way over to the bar and takes a seat facing toward the crowd. He's watching, more mesmerized than he should be, at the ocean of bodies that don't seem to care who they're grinding against so long as there's friction. There are flashing lights going along with the music, changing colors and pulsating fast, fast enough to make him dizzy. He's worried that he's about to have a bad trip when he can't tell where one body ends and another begins, and it's like people have two heads and four arms and four legs. 

He should stop taking those fucking pills right after he's smoked because they don't seem to mesh well, and anxiety builds in his gut as he decides maybe this was a shitty idea after all. He jumps when pressure comes to his shoulder and he spins so fast that his eyes practically cross before focusing on a pair of huge green ones.

“Woah there. You gonna be okay? You seem like you could use a drink.” Green eyes says, and then Jean realizes that yeah, a drink would be pretty nice, especially if he didn't have to pay for it. He's watching as the guy leans over the bar to order something, and his shirt rides up in the back as he retrieves it. His hips are wide and his skin is bronze and his jeans are hugging his thighs in a way that makes Jean's throat go dry. 

When green eyes hands Jean a drink that he really doesn't give a fuck about at this point he introduces himself as Eren, and Jean's not really paying attention to whatever it is he's saying because his blown gaze is trained on the spot where his neck curves and meets his collar bone. Jean sips his drink before noting that he hasn't given Eren his name, not that it matters anyway.

“Jean.” Something compels him to introduce himself after all.

“Huh? John?”

Jean cringes. _“Jean,”_ he repeats, louder, because he can't recall how many times his fucking name has been mispronounced.

“Oh, Jean. Okay. Not sure I'll remember it before the night is through.” Jean smirks, amused. This guy is honest, at least. Jean likes that.

“So do you wanna dance or something?” Eren asks, and for the first time Jean looks up to really get a good look at his face. It's short and his cheeks are round when he smiles. His front teeth are a little crooked. His hair is dark, short and messy like maybe he has a hard time taming it. But those fucking eyes of his are huge. So huge that Jean thinks maybe even the moon might be envious of them. And maybe it's the lighting in here or maybe he's higher than he thought he was because he swears he sees colors in them that don't even exist. 

But all in all, he looks like he'd have a hell of a time getting into a place like this, because he looks pretty young. Then Jean remembers the body attached to this baby faced kid and he shrugs his shoulders like he doesn't care.

“You mean go out there into... that?” Jean asks around the rim of his glass once he's finished taking in this kid from another planet, and his eyes are half lidded as the mass of bodies becomes just a black wave in flashing lights. “That's not dancing. I can't even see faces in there.” He comments, too low for Eren to catch it all, and Jean is still mumbling when Eren shouts over the bass.

“Well, whatever. You wanna go out there and grind on each other, then?” 

“That's.. not really my thing, man.” Jean protests, but he can't say that the thought of those hips gyrating against his own is a bad idea. “I don't have any rhythm.”

“Everyone does.” Green eyes- Eren, says, and then they're out there in the mass of bodies. Eren's got Jean by his wrist and he's tugging him through all those black smudges to get lost in the middle of it somewhere. Jean feels hands everywhere on his body but he doesn't mind, and then apparently Eren's found a suitable spot for them because he's got his back up against Jean's chest now, with one arm reaching back to comb through the shortest part of his hair, and his fingers are so warm against Jean's nape that the hairs there stand on end like he's never been touched there before.

Eren's hips are rolling with the music like they were producing the sound itself. He's creating some sort of terrible friction between their bodies and Jean's just standing there like an idiot half hard. Eren smirks, and he really doesn't look like a fucking baby anymore as he takes Jean's wrists to situate his hands on his pelvis that he's still rolling against Jean's frame like it's his job. Jean's skin prickles with gooseflesh as Eren's mouth gets close to his ear to talk into it.

“Come on,” he says, and the words are gripping in a way that Jean can't quite place, “Just move your body with mine, don't think about it.” So he doesn't. There aren't any other people here anyway. They're up against each other in the middle of this strange wave of black, and the lights are blinding and suddenly he's got selective deafness because all he can hear is that voice hot at the shell of his ear. He feels the deep, shaking vibrations of powerful second-long earthquakes that strangely enough just keep coming and coming. He forgets where he is. He loses track of time. He can't decide whether they've been doing this for a minute or an hour. 

Jean's captivated by deep emerald that looks into his soul and pulls it from his body and then places it back inside without being gentle; so now it's all twisted and garbled and he can't tell if something was taken from it while it was outside his body or not because his insides are on the outside and his skin is on fire and his dick is hard and throbbing in his pants while a body fucks itself against him through fabric. The sweat that beads on the surface of his heated skin feels cool for a moment before boiling like his blood, and Jean sees the sweat steam off his body even though it really doesn't. 

_“Fuck,”_ he moans beneath his breath as one of those denim clad thighs maneuver between his legs and he's afraid he might cum right there, but then the body pressed against his own stops moving and Jean can't tell if he's grateful for it or pissed as hell. Green eyes is mumbling something into Jean's ear, but all he can focus on is the painful throbbing in his pants. 

Jean's not sure how or when they end up in a car, but he's got his back pressed hard against the passenger side door with the seat leaned back as far as it can go so he can spread his legs. Green eyes is between them, and he's got full, swollen lips wrapped tightly around Jean's cock. The line of the dusty blond's vision is following that insanely sexy arch in the kid's back while he's knelt in the driver's seat and stretched over the middle console into the passenger side. Jean's gripping at the headrest of the seat with his left hand so hard that his knuckles are shown white, while the elbow of his right is leaning uncomfortably against the dashboard. He's got his fingers twisted in his own hair and he's pulling hard and cussing under his breath because this kid's got no fucking gag reflex. He's coming down from his high but he doesn't notice because while the head of messy dark hair is bobbing in his lap all that matters is that sweet, sweet release. 

But he's so fucking good at reading Jean's body, like he knows he's about to cum, so everything slows. He's not bobbing his head as fast anymore and the suction isn't as intense. He's dragging his tongue along the most sensitive parts, with little kitten licks while massaging his balls to drive Jean crazy, and it's working. Jean wants to thrust up into the heat of that mouth that won't entertain his release, but he can't get the leverage to do it and he's so fucking frustrated because he's _so fucking close._ Then all at once the brunet's going back at it full force, and Jean can feel himself hitting the back of the kid's throat. He's never gotten head this good before, and his toes are curled in his shoes as he cums with a stifled moan between gritted teeth. When Green eyes pulls back, he's swallowed up Jean's essence and wiping at his pink lips like he's just finished something delicious. This kid is fucking filthy.

When Jean hears him mutter in a gravelly voice, _“God, I need you to fuck me,”_ he can't think of anything more alluring and he's ready to push the shorter down and figure out a way to do it right there in the car but the space is cramped and Jean is clumsy and Green eyes laughs in a way that makes Jean's face heat up with embarrassment. 

“Where do you live?” Green eyes asks, and Jean wonders what kind of self control the kid has, because his hands are trembling as he puts the key in the ignition and he's probably fighting the same urge that Jean couldn't. 

What should have been a forty five minute drive back to Jean's apartment took a good hour or so. The GPS on Green eyes' phone is a piece of shit and it keeps losing the signal. By the time they get to Jean's place, the shorter is so pissed off that Jean's not sure if he'll even come inside.

“Jesus christ, you didn't tell me you lived all the way across town. You're lucky you're fucking hot,” he mumbles before getting out of the car, cursing the whole way up to Jean's apartment, but Jean pays him no mind. Once he's inside, he kicks off his shoes and turns to see the brunet surveying his place. 

“Sorry for the trouble, er-..” He tosses his keys and looks at the other man questioningly.

“I'm hurt. I suck you off and you don't even bother to remember my name. It's Eren.” He reminds Jean, and he's not _really_ hurt because he's got an amused expression on his face. Jean moves to disappear into the bedroom where he clicks on the small lamp sat on his nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed. He's looking down into his lap, at his hands rested on his own thighs. There's no ring there anymore. 

The shorter appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smirk and his arms crossed over his chest. He's just looking at Jean now, who raises his head to meet the emerald gaze. “Nice place you got,” he purrs, and Jean can only really focus on the way he's got his wide hips cocked to one side while he's leaning there.

There's no ring. There's no Marco. But Eren is there, and at least Jean's not alone tonight.

“Come here,” Jean says, and his voice is rough and tired, and it beckons the brunet over to him instantaneously. There are hands at either side of Jean's face that slide back to caress at his nape. Slender legs straddle Jean's lap and push into the mattress, and then those plush lips are on Jean's, and they're kissing slow and deep and Jean can't remember the last time he's kissed someone while he was almost sober, but after eight months, he can't feel guilty about it anymore. That's what he tells himself, anyway.

Eren guides Jean by his shoulders to lay back against the mattress while they're kissing, and he's leaning his weight into Jean as he presses his hands into the bed for better leverage as he begins to rock his hips slowly against Jean's. Soon they're panting into each others mouths, and their kisses have become all suction and teeth and their lips are swollen and burning but neither of them mind. They're both hard and grinding selfishly against one another while stifling soft grunts and moans by biting the other. Jean's head is still fuzzy; he's coming down a little hard since mixing the pills with weed. But the heat of Eren's body has stunted his brain so he can hardly think. Jean's grateful.

Eren pulls back from the kiss with a smirk still in place upon his features, and Jean is lamenting the fact that he doesn't have a fat bottom lip between his teeth as he raises himself up on his elbows to look at the smaller male curiously. Eren pulls a condom out of the back pocket of his jeans and rips the thing open with his teeth, and Jean throbs in his pants at the sight of it. It doesn't take long for Eren to unzip Jean's pants and pull them down with his underwear all in one go; they're at his ankles when Eren leans over the blond's lap with a look that Jean can only perceive as feral.

Eren rolls the condom over Jean's dick. It's one of those messy lubed up ones but the brunet gets it on like he's done this a million times. Eren looks satisfied, and he's leaning over the blond with his face flushed and his breathing still all ragged and his hair is an even worse clusterfuck than before. “Get on the bed all the way,” he says, because Jean's legs are still hanging over the side of the bed from where he was pushed down after having sat there, so he pushes himself up against the headboard, kicking off his pants and underwear and then Eren is crawling toward him on hands and knees. Eren raises himself to unbutton his jeans and slowly wiggles out of them. Jean notices a wet spot on his boxer briefs where his erection is straining against the fabric. Eren bites his own bottom lip while hooking his thumbs into the waist of his underwear and asks, “How do you want me?”

Fuck, this kid is _filthy._ The thought crosses Jean's mind for a second time that night, and he can't help but smirk because Eren seems like he aims to please. Before he can think about it, his hands are on Eren's thighs now, and they look even better without the denim on them. He's about to say something when apparently he's taken too long to respond, and Eren's made up his mind.

He straddles Jean's hips again, rocking his bare ass against the confined heat of Jean's erection and he purrs softly. “Want me to put on a show for you, babe?” And he leans back, running his own hands down his abdomen and pelvis where he winds his fingers around his own cock and pumps it slowly. “Want me to ride you?”

_“Fuck yes,”_ Jean sighs the answer without having to think about it, and not but a second after he does, Eren is rolling his hips against Jean, thrusting the straining shaft between the cheeks of his ass, but not letting him come inside. Jean grinds his teeth and moans with a tight jaw as Eren slowly lifts his own shirt. He does that thing- grips the hem of it with both arms crossed and lifts it in a swift motion over his head. It's stupid that Jean finds that so attractive.

“You look like you're about to start drooling,” Eren whispers while still moving his hips, and he can tell that Jean's just getting more and more frustrated, so he leans forward to trail kisses down Jean's long, slender neck before reaching back to pull apart his own cheeks. 

Eren sinks onto Jean's cock slowly with a strained expression. Eren's mouth is hanging open as he forgets to breathe and once Jean's all the way inside, Eren groans and Jean is biting back a sound too because it's tight, so fucking tight, and maybe they'd rushed into this a bit in their fervor. But then Eren starts to move and Jean cracks his head back against the headboard with a moan because the way Eren is rolling his hips is _just_ right.

Eren has his bottom lip between his teeth again, and the eyes that ate up Jean's soul before are closed and his thick brows are furrowed as he concentrates on moving himself against the taller body. _“Fuck,_ you're so _big..”_ he praises breathlessly, and he opens one eye to glimpse the blond who's got hazel orbs trained on Eren's hips. He's watching them rock and bounce up and down in his lap and he's hypnotized by the steady rhythm. He presses the pad of his thumbs into the rounded pelvis, urging him to go faster. Eren obliges, and each time he descends his moans are growing louder, and he's got his hands on Jean's shoulders for support while he moves.

Jean's following the line of that tight body, transfixed by the muscles that roll beneath the tanned flesh with each movement and gasped breath. Eren's arching his back into the rhythm now and it's driving Jean fucking nuts. His insides are knotted up as he's ridden like a fucking show pony, Eren is fucking himself so good into Jean's lap and he's even clenching around Jean as he bounces against him. Eren leans back now, both hands on Jean's knees while he really puts on a show for him. He rolls his tongue along his own puffy red lips while watching himself buck against Jean's cock, and he's smirking still, like the expression is stuck there. Jean can see everything with Eren's body out in the open like this, and it's fucking sinful. 

Jean's out of breath even though he's not the one doing most of the work, trying hard to stifle the sounds that are building in his chest because the brunet is just so god damn good at what he's doing, and all Jean can think is _'Shit, fuck, fuck, holy shit, fuck, God damn.'_ And he can't take this much longer, so Jean pulls out with a gasp and he switches their positions. Eren's on his knees gripping the headboard and Jean's on his knees behind him. He doesn't warn the brunet before penetrating him again, and the sound that Eren elicits is a surprised one as Jean fills him up. 

_“G-God...”_ Eren moans, and his shoulders tense up once Jean starts pounding into him, slapping flesh to flesh with his fingertips dug into Eren's hips. He's leaning his weight against the brunet and nipping at his nape, which causes the shorter to shudder. Jean's apparently found a weak spot without realizing it because Eren's fallen completely apart like this, and Jean likes it this way, likes the fact that he's wiped the smirk from this kid's face; likes the fact that Eren can't even form words because Jean's thrusts are so brutal.

“You were so eager to get fucked by me. Isn't this what you wanted?” He purrs huskily into Eren's ear, who can only cry out and nod and he's trembling and a mess and he's arching obscenely into the drive of Jean's hips. “Is this all you were thinking about from the minute you saw me? You're quite a little slut, aren't you?”

“Y-yes..!” Eren cries out, and the blond groans gruffly as he feels Eren clench around him again, smirking while slowing his pace. Eren's back is something to behold- with his shoulders all tensed up and his spine arched so fucking lewdly. His hips look even wider from this angle. He has his head dropped low as he's struggling to move with Jean, but Jean's fucking him so good that he can't keep up and he's getting close. His cries are higher and more desperate with each rough movement forward, and Jean feels proud of it.

“God, you're so fucking **good** ,” Eren praises, and his voice is strained and harsh and breathless as saliva drips down his chin. “Fuck, **fuck** , I-..”

“You gonna cum for me?” Jean hums against the shell of Eren's ear before the brunet can finish his sentence, breathing hotly against it. His thrusts are slow, but deep, so deep, and Eren feels like he could split the wood of the headboard he's gripping it so hard as he nods again, choking on a sound that's a mixture of a whimper and a cry. 

“Say my name you little fucking slut,” Jean commands, and he's got a hand wrapped around Eren's throat as he drives deep into his body, and Eren is loving it because his dick twitches eagerly after each gravelly sentence breathed against his ear and his thighs are trembling. 

“ **Fuck** , Jean..!” He obeys, “Jean, Jean, **Jean..!** ” And the dirty talk has really got him going, he's only one or two more thrusts from being pushed over the edge. He can feel his guts are coiled up and his skin is burning pink everywhere that's visible. Strands from that clusterfuck of dark hair are plastered to burning cheeks and forehead with sweat, and Jean notices the hair at the nape of Eren's neck has started to curl as it's dampened with sweat, too. Then the hand around Eren's throat tightens just a bit, and Jean whispers into his ear once more. 

_“Good boy.”_ And Eren cums hard before Jean can even sink deep into him again.

Eren's climax has hit him so hard that he's collapsed against the pillows collected at the headboard and he's crying into them while Jean keeps thrusting because he's not finished yet. Eren is clenching around him so tight that it's almost painful, so he pulls out with frustration and tears the condom off, and his hand sets to work stroking himself fast over the panting body beneath him. When Eren's frame starts to go lax, Jean uses his free hand to tug Eren's hips up forcefully to keep that cute little ass up in the air.

“Just look at this pretty back..” Jean whispers, and he can't tell if he's meaning to praise Eren or if he's just talking to himself. “Don't you think it'll be even prettier with my cum smeared all over it?” He asks, and Eren is glancing over his shoulder while biting his own thumb and he's smiling, looking exhausted and completely satisfied.

“Cum on me, Jean,” he whispers sweetly, and he even wiggles his ass for him and makes a sound like he can't think of anything he'd rather have in the entire universe. Jean throbs in his own hand and he gives himself a squeeze as he begins to ride his orgasm. _“I want it so bad.. Cum all over me, Jean.”_ Milky white splatters across Eren's lower back and ass in long spurted strands, and Jean is swallowing his groans as best he can but fuck, he just keeps cumming while Eren begs for it. 

Scratch filthy. Eren is fucking **vile.**

By the time Jean's finished, his legs are trembling and there's quite a mess decorating that pretty beige skin. Eren finally lets his body sink into the mattress and blankets, and he's trying to regain his breathing through his nose and it's just starting to even out when Jean rolls onto the bed next to him, totally spent. Jean throws an arm over his eyes as he basks in the euphoria of coming down from the height of his orgasm. Neither of them say anything to each other as their limbs finally stop trembling and relax, and their breathing evens out at last and the perspiration on their skin has disappeared. Eren sluggishly grips the nearest sheet to wipe off his back and ass.

Jean's not quite sure when he or Eren falls asleep, but their legs are tangled up and he feels a weight on his chest, and he sleeps like a fucking baby for the first time in months.


	4. Bed and Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren wakes up and decides he doesn't feel like driving home on an empty stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eren is pretty much an intolerable little shit, but at least Jean gets pancakes out of it.

Eren wakes up with the sun shining against his face and laments the fact he didn't fall asleep on the opposite side of the bed. Groaning, he rolls over and blinks, then rubs the sleep from his eyes with another dissatisfied sound. He decides to lay there a bit longer. The bed is big and the mattress is soft and the pillows smell really nice. He wants to sink into it all and lay there as long as he can, but then his stomach growls and he realizes that the hunger pains are a lot more important than being lazy in a hot stranger's bed. 

He looks around, still drowsy with sleep and he's looking for a clock but doesn't find one. There's a night stand on his side of the bed and it's got a lamp on it with a picture frame with a photo of the guy that fucked his brains out last night, but there's someone with him. He's got freckles and kind eyes and one hell of a smile. They look happy. Eren's looking at it for a long time before his stomach growls again and he rolls out of bed while stifling a pained groan. 

His body is sore and he knows he's overdone it when he bends to pick up his pants and chokes on a pained groan- he quickly clenches his throat around the sound to stifle it because he doesn't want to wake up sleeping beauty over there. He tries to get one of his legs into his jeans and can barely raise it more than four inches from the ground. He attempts to bend down to grab his shirt too, but god damn he's not strong enough to wade through that shock of pain again this early in the morning, so he forgets it and rights himself while rubbing at his sore hips with a furrowed brow. He remembers that this place is a good hour away from home and decides he'd rather look for something to eat here than drive as soon as he's gotten up. Hazarding a glance to the person he'd slept next to, Eren sees Jean is out cold and is probably gonna stay that way for a while. He leaves the room while shutting the door quietly behind him.

Eren finds the bathroom and does his business, washes his hands, and then digs around in the cabinet under the sink until he finds some mouthwash. He hates mouthwash, it burns the shit out of his tongue and leaves it numb but he doesn't have a toothbrush and this is the next best thing. He gargles a cap full, spits it into the sink, and then studies himself in the mirror. His bottom lip is bruised and still a little swollen. Other than that, there aren't any visible marks anywhere on his body from the night before, but as he recalls, the only spot Jean's mouth really paid attention to was the back of Eren's neck. He turns around and tries to get a better view of his nape and sees little bruises there, and his lips curl into a grin. He hisses when he presses the pad of two fingers down on the darkest bruise, rubs at it, and then makes his way to the kitchen with that dull throb just below his hairline reminding him of the sensation of Jean's teeth against his skin.

Once he's in the kitchen, Eren's going through all the cabinets to look for something, anything to eat at this point. No fucking cereal. What kind of guy doesn't even have a box of cereal or two? This guy's got barely anything by way of food, but Eren is determined, so he's digging in the back of a cupboard when he scores a box of Hungry Jack mix and his eyes light up like stars. Thank whatever higher being exists that all you need to make a decent pancake with this stuff is water and some cooking oil. Eren finds his way around the place pretty fast- and soon he's got a hefty bowl of pancake mix and the stove is going and the pan is hot and in no time he's got a nice fat stack of fluffy pancakes that he can dig into.

It doesn't occur to Eren that he's made enough pancakes for a basketball team, or that he's made one hell of a mess in this stranger's house. There's splattered batter drying on the stove, and dry pancake powder all over the counter. He didn't even bother to put the bowl he'd mixed the stuff in into the sink. He doesn't care because he's got a plate of hot pancakes in one hand and he's going through the fridge with the other to pull out a gallon of milk that surprisingly isn't spoiled. He deposits both onto the dining table that sits just off the kitchen and goes back to grab a bottle of syrup and butter, nudging the fridge door closed with his hip. 

He sits, and it takes some adjusting to get comfortable, but he's more hungry than he is sore at this point, so he slathers his pancakes with butter and syrup and starts to dig in while ignoring the dull ache in his lower body. He's about halfway through with his plate when he hears clambering from the other room, then heavy, fast footsteps that sound like running. He doesn't look up from his plate when Jean makes it into the dining room to see Eren sitting at the table. Apparently he'd forgotten that there was someone else in his house, because his expression is wide-eyed, something like panic and disbelief, and he's out of breath because he actually just sprinted into the room. “The fuck..” Jean mumbles to himself, and once their eyes meet, Jean's brow narrows, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Eating pancakes, what's it look like?” Eren answers without skipping a beat, one of his cheeks full with the food he's made and he's already shoveling more inside. He looks up now and is met with possibly the worst bed head he's ever seen in his entire life. Jean's got huge cowlicks on the side where he slept, and it takes a lot for Eren not to laugh. “There's some for you on the counter,” he offers, and then twists the cap off the jug of milk and drinks from it like he's at home.

Eren arches a brow to see Jean beginning to seethe, but the look holds no venom when his hair is sticking up and he's standing there in his underwear and a t-shirt. Eren puts the milk down as Jean repeats. “What the hell are you **doing?** ” 

“What? You think I'm gonna take the walk of shame on an empty stomach?” Eren answers matter of factly, and he's shoveling more food into his mouth because Jean's reaction to all of this is pretty entertaining. He must not be used to waking up with a stranger- in fact it's pretty much protocol to sneak out before the object of your shame wakes up, but Eren can't be bothered to care about that shit, so he just sits there eating like this is a common occurrence and they've known each other for more than twelve hours.

“Are you insane? You need to get out of here. What the fuck do you think this is, a bed and breakfast?” Jean says, and he's really pissed because he's gesturing with his hands as he talks and it's actually pretty cute because his face is all red while he's talking. “And don't fucking drink from the **milk jug** you goddamn heathen.”

“Dude, take a chill pill. I said I made pancakes, I'm not asking you to marry me.” Eren points at the taller with his fork, and his expression is a flat one. “So sit the fuck down and eat. I'll leave when I'm done.” Eren reassures him, and Jean just stands there dumbly, but it... _does_ smell pretty nice.

–

Jean can't even believe that he's actually sitting next to this guy and eating pancakes like they're old friends or something. He's got a mug of coffee and he's glaring at the stack of sweet breakfast cakes like it's their fault he's in this awkward situation. But apparently Jean is the only one that feels awkward, because Eren's gotten up for seconds and he sits back down and Jean can feel those stupid big eyes on him.

“So they're good then.” He hears Eren say, and he looks up from his plate to glare at the brunet with his mouth full. “You groaned when you took that last bite,” Eren muses, and the back of Jean's neck heats up as he swallows to retort.

“That's just because I'm irritated. Aren't you finished yet?” It's definitely because he's irritated, not because he never cooks for himself.

“Nope.” Eren replies while popping another syrupy forkful into his mouth, and he's looking around the apartment again. He can see into the living room from where he's sitting. There are pictures of Jean and that guy on the wall. He curls his top lip up after squinting at the third picture because he can't stand sappy people that can't get over their ex's. But for some reason he wonders how long it's been and why there are pictures of this guy all over the place still. Maybe Jean's some kind of masochist and likes the way it hurts when he sees the guy with freckles smiling, because Eren can't fathom loving someone enough to hold onto their picture when they're already gone. 

They sit in silence for a bit while Eren's apparently captivated by the living room, and he's just mindlessly forking food into his mouth. 

“So it's probably none of my business,” Eren says, and he and Jean are both looking at each other now, “But if you want to get over someone, it's probably best not to have their picture all over the place.” Eren's never been a man with tact.

Within seconds of saying it, he regrets it because Jean's put his fork down and the color has drained from his face. He doesn't say anything at first and Eren tenses up because he feels like maybe this is the calm before the storm.

“You're right, it's none of your business,” Jean says, but his voice is even and quiet. Eren relaxes and breathes a sigh of relief. “You need to go.” He continues, and Eren tenses again because he doesn't know how this guy is about to react. 

“Uh.. yeah.” He mumbles, and he's done with his breakfast anyway so he gets up and goes to the bedroom to get his shirt and pulls it on. He casts a glance at the photo on the nightstand and curls his lip again. “Seems like you did a number on him, freckles,” he says to the stranger in the photo, running a hand through messy hair and making his way toward the front door with his keys in hand.

“If you're ever in my part of town again, I'm at the same place pretty much every Saturday,” Eren offers while unlocking the door. Jean doesn't respond. Eren presses his lips into a thin line before leaving, and Jean's alone again. He's got a sick feeling in his stomach as he leans with his elbows on the table while palming at his eyes. He's pressing into them harder and harder so the colors behind his eyelids get brighter. He does it until it hurts and he's got a headache. When he finally stops and his vision focuses, he looks down at his plate of half eaten food, then to the spot where Eren had sat moments before.

For some reason, the apartment seems quieter than usual.


	5. Puke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean has a pretty bad night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  *******There is non-consensual sex in this chapter!!******* If you can't stomach it then please don't read it!  
>  I'm also super sorry I made Reiner such a dickshit in this. I actually love him a lot.

The next couple weeks go by in something of a blur for Jean. It's slow at the restaurant he works at so he spends most of his time there playing games on his cell phone and not much else. When he comes home at night, he goes straight to the fridge and grabs a beer, and then sits on the couch and smokes until he doesn't even realize that he's home. He has this routine for days, because for some reason he just can't stomp the thought going through his mind, _“-if you want to get over someone, it's probably best not to have their picture all over the place.”_

Jean fucking knows that. He's not a moron. He knows how fucking pathetic he is. He knows how god damn sad it is for him to think that maybe he's going to come home from work and Marco will be sitting there on the couch waiting for him. He knows it's absolutely ridiculous to hope that when his phone rings, the voice on the other line when he picks up is going to be Marco's. He knows how fucking ludicrous all of it is. He can't help the fact that the only thing that keeps him from feeling so fucking stupid about it all is getting high and drunk and sleeping with strangers to keep his mind distracted. 

The sound of the TV isn't enough tonight. For the first time in two weeks, Jean's going to treat himself to a night out. He needs the distraction and the company. He's smoked enough that he's pretty numb, but his body feels hot and he needs someone to touch him right now. There's a bar a couple blocks away that he frequents, so he decides to walk there.

Once Jean arrives at the place he's become rather familiar to, the bartender greets him as if they were old friends. Jean grins, nods in greeting, and then orders his usual Long Island. He takes no time downing the mixed drink and ordering a second. He's about halfway through with it when he's approached by one of the many men sitting at the bar top.

“Mind if I sit here?” A deep voice asks, and he's sliding into the spot next to Jean as he nods his approval. When Jean looks over he sees a muscular man with blond hair buzzed close to his head. He's well over six feet tall, built like a brick house and looks like he could probably bench press Jean if he wanted to. Jean almost feels sorry for the white shirt that he's wearing; it's clinging to his biceps and chest looking like it'll rip if he moves too much.

“I've seen you here a couple times in the past but never got the chance to say hey,” the blond says, and he flashes Jean this charming smile that's kind of contagious. “I'm Reiner.”

“Yeah?” Jean asks, and he's sipping at his drink again. “Jean.” 

“I already knew your name.” Reiner laughs, and it's a deep, hearty laugh from his chest. “You're a little infamous around here, you know?”

“Oh?” Jean's looking at his empty glass, and the alcohol is laying low and warm in his belly and his fingers are tingling slightly. “If that's the case, then you must also know that I prefer to be wined and dined before I get taken home.” He smirks at the muscular man, who only laughs again, and orders Jean a drink.

Their banter goes on for quite some time, and Jean can't tell how many drinks he's had, but he knows he's wracked up a pretty hefty tab for his drinking buddy, who's thrown them back without it having any effect on him. They're talking about stupid shit and Jean's got his hand on one of Reiner's biceps to steady himself from falling forward as he laughs. 

“You've got a cute laugh,” the blond says, and Jean's face is already red from the alcohol, but he feels the heat spread to his ears and neck with the compliment. He doesn't say anything in response, and looks away while rubbing at a burning earlobe. With his head turned, though, he hasn't realized that he's made himself vulnerable, and Reiner leans in, craning his neck to talk into Jean's ear. 

“I wanna see more of this cute side of yours,” The deep baritone of his voice rumbles against Jean's eardrum and vibrates into his brain, and there are thick fingers at Jean's hip, raising his shirt just slightly to pet the skin stretched over the bone there. Jean's flesh crawls beneath the touch, and he takes in a trembling breath before slurring, “I live 'round the corner.”

–

They walk to Jean's apartment since it's so close, and Reiner's got his arm wrapped around Jean's waist because he's stumbling all over the place and laughing like a moron. When they get inside, Reiner's got Jean up against the nearest wall and he's sucking and biting all over his neck. Jean's letting out little appreciative grunts with each nip to his skin, rolling his head to one side to expose more skin for the blond to consume. 

“Damn, you're so adorable,” Reiner praises against Jean's skin, and the shorter arches his body against the hard one that's got him pinned teasingly, because he'd much rather be touched than complimented. 

“You keep sayin' that,” Jean slurrs softly, and he's feeling across that hard, broad chest with both his hands before descending down his abdomen and running his fingertips along the waistline of Reiner's pants. There's a leather belt secured at Reiner's waist, and Jean's drunk fingers have a hard time loosening it, but he finally gets it undone, and then laughs at the struggle he's just gone through.

“Come on, this is uncomfortable,” Jean says, and he's tugging Reiner by his belt loops into the living room. Jean stumbles and trips over his own legs and falls onto the sofa with a grunt, then turns to look up at the blond with his head spinning. At first there are three of him, but Jean's vision focuses at last and he relaxes into the couch, leaning his head back against the cushions with a sigh of relief. He closes his eyes, and maybe he dozes off for a minute because suddenly there's a hand at the back of his head, and he's aware again and opens his eyes.

Reiner's got one leg propped up on the couch cushions, and he's guiding his cock toward Jean's mouth while muttering softly, “Come on, babydoll. Open up for me.” Jean makes a sound of disapproval because he's got nothing to gain from this, and his head is fuzzier than he remembers and he's exhausted, so he turns his face away. But the strong hand at the back of his head curls forcefully into the longer strands of hair there, and forces him to face forward again, and the blond is smearing precum along Jean's bottom lip.

Suddenly the blond really isn't as charming as when Jean had met him at the bar. “Nn.. No,” The shorter protests, and then that big hand moves and it's gripping Jean's jaw forcibly, and Jean raises both hands to grip the other man's wrist to try to stop him, but he can't overpower him in the slightest, and his lips begin to part. Jean makes a sound of strained panic because it hurts so bad that it feels like his jaw might dislocate, so he lets it go slack in the other man's grip and as soon as he does, Reiner pushes inside.

“That's it, you're behaving properly now,” The taller man says, and his grip on Jean's face loosens so it doesn't hurt anymore, and he begins to thrust slow and deep into his mouth. Jean's short nails are digging into Reiner's wrist, leaving burning red crescents there, but Reiner doesn't seem to care. Jean's head is swimming, and he's so dizzy that his vision has blurred again. He breathes out through his nose, and his throat strains as Reiner thrusts deeper, and then he's gagging while hot tears sting the corners of his eyes and the drunkenness is beginning to wear off because he really doesn't want to do this. Narrowed amber is glaring upward at the taller man, and Jean has half a mind to bite, but he knows that he's not strong enough to put up a fight with this guy who's nearly twice his size.

“What's wrong, babydoll?” Reiner sighs, and his lips are curled upward into a smirk as he studies Jean's face. “When you look at me like that, it just makes me want to tease you even more,” he purrs, and the pad of his thumb raises to wipe at one of the tears threatening to fall. Jean cringes, squeezes his eyes shut because he can't stand to look into the guy's face anymore, and coughs against him as he hits the back of his throat particularly hard.

Reiner seems to be enjoying all the nasty sounds Jean's making, because he's starting to thrust a little faster. Jean thinks he's probably got a pretty disgusting expression on his face, and he can hear him grunting while his breath hitches. He must be close. Jean tries to pull back now, and he jerks with enough force to get most of Reiner out of his mouth, but then both hands are gripping his head and pushing him forward. “I'm so close, baby. Fuck, your mouth is so good,” he groans, and Jean starts to panic again and he's making wet sounds of resistance against him. It doesn't do any good, and when Reiner cums, he hits the back of Jean's throat harshly. The thick, salty fluid fills the back of Jean's throat quickly, and it's coming up through his sinuses and down his throat all at once. Reiner finally pulls out, and Jean is hacking and gagging while tears stream down his face. There's cum dripping from the corners of his lips and nostrils, and his stomach flips before he leans forward to vomit onto the carpet.

Jean wipes at his mouth with a trembling hand once he's through puking up cum and alcohol all over his carpet, and he turns away from the taller man to hide his tear streaked face. He uses his sleeve to wipe his nose, and he gags when he feels the stickiness trapped in his sinuses and his stomach lurches again, but there's nothing left to throw up so he somehow manages to keep the urge to vomit again at bay.

He's not expecting it when a firm grip comes to his arm, turning him to face the burly blond once again. Jean tenses immediately, and his trembling is more visible as he attempts to curl a leg up to his chest, but Reiner's moving to force himself between Jean's legs and he's pressing Jean into the cushions with most of his weight. “Are you afraid?” The blond asks, and he doesn't get an answer because Jean's expression is pretty apparent. 

“I don't feel well, so.. Maybe you should go.” Jean tries, but he feels Reiner's breath hot at the curve of his neck and shoulder, and he starts to suckle there. Jean can tell by the force of the suction that Reiner's leaving marks, and he squirms against him with a groan as he begins to trail his mouth all the way up Jean's neck. “Stop, asshole, I don't want you leaving fucking marks on me,” he spits, squirms more furiously against the broad frame, and then stops once his face is gripped hard.

“Baby's got a little bite, doesn't he?” Reiner purrs, and he thrusts his hips against Jean's clothed backside. “You're cute even like this, you know.” Then one of Reiner's hands takes Jean's wrists and pin them heavily above his head.

Jean growls audibly because he's had enough. **“Fuck you,”** he says, but Reiner is lifting Jean's shirt with his free hand and Jean turns his face away while biting down so hard into his bottom lip that it breaks skin. He feels teeth and tongue at his chest and he wishes he could curl away from the other man's mouth, but he's not fucking strong enough. 

A whole new wave of panic hits Jean as he feels tugging at his jeans. The button is opened and the zipper is pulled down smoothly, and then Reiner jerks the fabric from his hips, followed shortly by his underwear. “Fucking **quit it,** ” Jean starts, and he's kicking now because there's nothing else he can do at this point. He tries to turn against Reiner's weight, and manages to get onto his side. He's got one leg in his pants still so he uses the free one to kick at the blond's chest, but he grips Jean's calf, turning him to lay flat on his stomach with a low chuckle. There's weight on Jean's thighs now and he can't move his legs like this at all, so he props himself up on his elbows and tries to turn to swing an arm in the other man's direction, but it's also caught. Reiner twists Jean's arm to pin it behind his back and the smaller man whimpers in pain.

“I'm not trying to hurt you, but you're making it really difficult for me, babydoll.” Reiner speaks in a tone like he's trying to soothe the man he's got pinned, but it does little else than make him feel sick. Jean glares at the blond over his shoulder, gritting his teeth as he feels prodding at his ass. Reiner's playing with the rounded skin there, massaging it, pulling the cheeks apart. “You'll enjoy yourself just fine if you relax a little.”

“I'd enjoy myself just fine if you'd get the **fuck** off of me,” Jean bites back, and Reiner chuckles before sliding a finger forward to prod at Jean's entrance. The smaller immediately freezes, because he doesn't want to jerk suddenly and have this guy knuckle deep inside him dry. He holds his breath, and his thighs tremble as he arches away.

“That's better,” Jean hears Reiner say, and the finger is gone, but only for a minute. When it returns, it's wet and hot with what Jean can only assume is saliva, and it's petting at the ring of muscle, circling it, and Jean feels nauseous as it's slowly eased inside.

“N-no.. fucking... Pull it **out,** ” Jean manages weakly, the side of his face pressed into the sofa cushion with his brows knitted upward. “Fuckin' stop.. I'm gonna be sick.”

“Still talking?” Reiner asks, and he presses his finger all the way inside now, eliciting a long, strained groan from the back of Jean's throat. He chokes on the sound, recoils, and gasps once Reiner starts a slow rhythm with his body. It's not long before a second digit is added, and he's stretching around the thick fingers while biting back his cries because he doesn't want to give Reiner the satisfaction. It hurts, and the spit Reiner's used as piss-poor lubricant has already begun to dry. Jean's body is trembling as the friction rubs his inner walls raw, and he curls his fingers into his palm, trying to draw blood to distract himself from the pain in his backside. It does little, and then the fingers scissor to spread the muscles wider, and Jean cries out in pain while trying to twist his arm out of Reiner's grip.

“Shh, shh, you're doing great, baby.” Reiner praises, and then the fingers are gone and he feels something warm and heavy rubbing at his abused asshole. He's not even wearing a fucking condom.

“Fuck, no, don't-” Jean starts, but then Reiner starts to push inside, and Jean's muscles are clenching but the drive of the blond's hips is stronger, and he manages to push the head of his cock inside. Jean makes a sound that's a mixture of a groan, gasp, and scream, and he hears Reiner spit on his dick in attempts to help ease it's way inside. New tears have sprung to Jean's eyes now, and they're quick and heavy as they roll down his flushed cheeks. “I-I'm.. g-gonna.. throw up..!” He yells as Reiner starts to rock his hips, and he's pissed that his voice sounds so fucking shaky and pathetic. “P-pull it out..! It.. ff-.. **fucking hurts..!** ”

He feels Reiner release his arm to instead place both hands on Jean's backside. His cheeks are spread, and it's sick how he can practically feel Reiner's eyes on him, watching himself fuck into Jean. He must be pleased with the view, because his hips pick up, and he's thrusting deep and mercilessly and Jean's almost certain that he's torn now because all he feels is searing heat and pain. The sounds that leave him are choked sobs that are only growing louder with each deliberate thrust forward. 

Reiner's hips buck, and for a moment Jean feels something like relief because he realizes it's going to be over soon. His rhythm becomes frantic, his groans closer together. “I'm gonna cum inside you,” he grunts, and Jean sobs out loudly, “Don't! F-fucking.. Don't, please, don't..! **Please, don't!** ” He begs, and his fingers curl into the sofa cushions in a vice grip as he strains against the intrusion. His nausea has almost reached it's breaking point. He covers his mouth with one hand because he doesn't want to puke on the couch, and he feels the bile rising up into his throat. He looks up at the nearest wall as though he's going to find salvation there, and sees a picture of Marco looking back at him.

Jean makes a sobbing sound before gagging and pukes into his hand at the same moment that Reiner cums. His hips are rocking slow and deep and he's milking himself into Jean's body while spit and bile lurch into Jean's palm. The mixture from his stomach is leaking through the cracks in his fingers and burning the open wound in his split bottom lip when Reiner pulls out, and as he feels the cum dripping down his thighs, he dry heaves as there's nothing left in his belly. 

“Oh.. guess you were serious about vomiting.” Reiner notes as he pulls back to stand, and he's tugging up his pants to secure the belt back in place with an uncaring shrug. “Maybe not drink so much next time, yeah?” He offers, and Jean cringes as he feels a pat to his shoulder. “Well, it's been fun. But I better get home, it's pretty late.” Reiner says, and if Jean had the strength or will, he'd probably be punching him in his fucking dick right now.

Once the blond's gone, and Jean's collected himself enough, he tries to move without touching the couch. Standing, he chokes out a pained cry, and now that he can study himself he sees a mixture of milky white and red dripping down his thighs. His brows knit together as his eyes water anew, and he's trying not to let the tears fall when he stumbles, trembling and half naked to the bathroom. 

As Jean bends to turn on the shower, he's blaming himself for all of this, grinding his teeth while trying to force himself to stop crying.


	6. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean bumps into Eren again. They have a good time, alriiiight!

When Jean goes out again, he makes the effort to drive across town to that fancy, big club he'd visited once. He really doesn't want to risk being seen at any of the places close to home anymore. He parks across the street from the club, and once he approaches it he realizes just how pretentious it is. He enters while shaking his head and straightening out the leather jacket that's adorning his shoulders. He heads straight for the bar where he orders a couple shots and a beer, downing them quickly. Then he heads toward the mass of bodies on the dance floor. He's tense at first, but then there are bodies all over him, touching and caressing and grinding. 

There's a sexy blonde at his side and she's giving it her all against him. Damn, she's barely got anything on. Her skirt is just barely covering her ass and her shirt, if you can call it that, is cropped pretty high, but the neckline plunges anyway so pretty much nothing is left to the imagination. To add insult to injury, she's wearing one of those long chained necklaces where whatever's at the end of it keeps getting stuck between her cleavage, so Jean's eyes are trained there as another curvy little thing starts dancing against his other side. Her hair is dark and long and her choice of clothes isn't much better than the blonde's.

Jean's getting into it when he feels a third body at his back, and it's hard and solid so he tilts his head to glimpse a tall man behind him. He feels hands on his body and legs entwining with his own and cute giggles breathed into his ears, and he's really losing himself like this. His eyes close, and he's got his arm around the dark haired girl as she's peppering kisses at his neck while sliding her hand beneath Jean's shirt. The blonde has got one of her legs wrapped around his, and she's humming against his earlobe, making his skin prickle with gooseflesh. The man behind him has got a hand on Jean's hips, and he's grinding slow and gentle against his ass. Jean appreciates the consideration.

When Jean opens his eyes again, he breathes out shakily. It takes a moment for his eyes to focus. When they do, they're locked with another pair, and Jean slows his movements because he's caught by intense, familiar, unblinking emerald.

_“-probably best not to have their picture all over the place.”_

Jean's eyes narrow, and he's watching Eren watch him from the bar. He pulls the dark haired girl closer and tilts her chin upward, where she immediately takes the opportunity to kiss at the corner of Jean's mouth. She winds her arms around his neck, and Jean moves his thigh between her legs while kissing along her shoulder. He bites down gingerly, and she moans appreciatively into his ear and he's smirking against her flesh because he's not broken eye contact with Eren since spotting him. 

–

“The fuck is this guys **problem**?” Eren hisses to himself, and he's clenching his fists from where he's sat at the bar, leaning back against it with his elbows. “Is he trying to piss me off? He's fucking trying to piss me off!” He thinks out loud, and for some reason he can't bring himself to peel his eyes away from the display Jean's putting on. The guy behind Jean has started to kiss and nip at the back of his neck while the blonde slips her arms around Jean's waist. Then the raven haired girl pressed against him tangles her fingers into his hair and she's kissing him. Jean's eyes flutter to her face for a brief moment before flashing back toward Eren's, and for some reason, it makes Eren's guts somersault, so he pushes away from the bar with narrowed eyes to approach them.

Eren squeezes through bodies closing in on him as he's making his way, and when he gets to them, he unwinds one of the dark haired girl's hands from around Jean, and raises it up to spin her playfully. Before she can realize what's going on, Eren's giving her his most charming smile while still politely holding her hand. “Mind if I uh-” and he tilts his head toward Jean to indicate he wants some time with the taller man. 

“Not at all,” the girl obliges, and she giggles and lets go of Eren's hand, then reaches to grab at the curvy blond on Jean's side to pull her away. The two of them wave before disappearing into the crowd together. The guy behind Jean pauses before realizing he's clearly not wanted there by the pair of glaring green eyes that are boring into him. Eren's glad the stranger takes the hint pretty quickly and wanders off.

“So what's your fucking damage?” The brunet asks, and Jean's just grinning at him like a moron.

“What? I was having a good time and minding my own business. You're the one that came over here and ruined it. Don't tell me you were _jealous_.” Jean retorts, propping a hand on his hip and looking like a smug fucking douchebag.

“Give me a fucking break,” the shorter groans, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “If anything, it's you that came here hoping to bump into me again. I told you I'm here every Saturday.”

“Did you?” Jean asks, and Eren is only getting more frustrated because he can't tell if Jean is being serious right now or not. 

“I've just decided that I like you a lot more when you've got alcohol in your system,” Eren says flatly while motioning to the bar. “Can't believe I'm about to ask this, but d'you wanna drink?”

“There is alcohol in my system for your information, pancake boy. And yeah. That sounds nice,” Jean smirks. “And you're buying because you fucking owe me for making a mess in my kitchen and not bothering to clean it up.”

Eren feels heat in his ears, “ _Pancake boy? Really?_ You want me to buy you a drink or sock you in the jaw, because I could do either.” 

Jean laughs while holding his stomach because he finds himself pretty fucking funny. Shaking his head once the laughter subsides, he's looking at an unimpressed Eren who's got the corner of his lips turned down in embarrassment. “Drinks. Drinks are good,” Jean decides.

They make their way to the bar and Jean is the first to order drinks for them. They sit down, and Jean's got one leg crossed over the other so the toe of his shoe is tapping Eren's calf.

“So why did you go out of your way to come here? Don't tell me you actually missed me,” Eren teases after taking a long swig of the drink Jean's ordered for him, bumping his leg against the taller man's foot.

“Nh.. Just got tired of all the same faces at the places near me,” he says, and it's partly true, but not the biggest reason.

“So you came here to prowl on some new honeys.” Eren's smirking around the rim of his glass. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I'm not disappointed,” Jean says, “I didn't _have_ to accept your invitation, you know. Though I do plan on wracking up a nice bill for you as payback for that time.” He sips his drink.

Eren's ears are going red again, and he's thankful that it's dark enough in this place that it can't be seen. He quickly orders another round of drinks for them even though they're not quite finished with the first, and he mutters, “Don't just say shit like that. And if the bill gets too high, we're splitting it.”

Jean arches a brow toward the brunet, but doesn't say anything. Is Eren actually.. flustered? The thought is almost laughable when Jean's only really had the opportunity to see him as a perverse big mouth that likes to make messes in other people's houses. After a moment of silence, he suggests a round of shots, and Eren is more than agreeable.

Somehow the one round of shots turn into a multi-shot competition. Jean keeps ordering things that Eren's never heard of- he barely knows the basics of drinking, but Jean really seems to know his way around a bar for whatever reason. When he asks what's in the shot, Jean's spouting off a bunch of shit that Eren's unfamiliar with, so he just nods and drinks whatever's ordered for him hoping it doesn't taste like the back of a tire. 

Jean's doing the countdowns before they throw back at the same time, and he's just about to start for this next shot when Eren swings his arm around Jean's. The blond nearly spills his drink because he wasn't expecting it, but Eren's grinning at him with a challenging look in his eyes. “If you spill it, you lose,” he says, and Jean's got his wits about him again, so he counts down and they're tugging each other by the arm as they tilt their heads back to down their drinks. 

–

They've both got pretty good buzzes going when Eren suggests, “Wanna finish drinking at my place? I don't live far.” He's only just barely beginning to slur his words, and Jean nods his approval while Eren pulls out his phone to call a taxi.

The drive to Eren's place is short. Jean's looking out the window the whole ride and doesn't realize the car has stopped, then Eren's tugging him by his wrist out of the car and into the parking lot of his apartment complex.

“Wow this is one shitty ass neighborhood,” Jean slurs after looking around and catching sight of the dumpster at the end of the parking lot.

“Rent's cheap,” Eren mumbles, and then they're making their way up to his unit, “And it's not that shitty. You only said that 'cause you were lookin' at a dumpster.”

“There ain't a dumpster in my parking lot.”

“Then it must suck to have to take the trash out where you live,” Eren rolls his eyes as they step inside his apartment, and Jean's already taking off his shoes and jacket before even shutting the door behind him.

Jean wanders to the living room, flipping on a light switch on the wall and flops onto the sofa. He notes this place is pretty tidy. It's small, but alright for one person. He's looking around the unfamiliar space and sees nothing on the walls except a couple sconces holding candles. Eren's apartment is pretty much the basics and not much else. 

Jean hisses loudly as something ice cold presses to the back of his neck, whipping around to see Eren laughing while holding a beer bottle out to him. “Here,” he says through his teeth, and Jean takes the bottle while grimacing because now the hairs on the back of his neck are standing on end and he's got goosebumps all the way down his spine.

“And before you make fun of the candles, my mom got 'em for me,” Eren says while taking a seat next to Jean, reaching for a remote and clicking on the television. 

“I thought it was a nice feminine touch,” Jean scoffs around the opening of his beer bottle, but he's grinning and Eren can see it plainly.

“Wow, you're a douche.” Eren mutters, taking a long swig from the bottle he's holding before setting it down on the table next to the sofa. 

“Fuck you, pancake boy.” Jean slurs, then tenses up as Eren moves suddenly and swiftly, and he's straddling Jean's lap with a playful smirk. 

“Thought you'd never ask.” He says, and his voice is that low and inviting tone that Jean remembers, and he's combing both hands through the lighter part of Jean's hair and scratching his scalp so Jean welcomes the diminishing of space as Eren seals their mouths in a kiss.

Jean pulls back first, rolling his tongue along his own lips.

“Couple seconds ago I was a douche,” Jean mutters, but he's smiling while taking another drink from his bottle. Some of the liquid drips down his chin, and he wipes at it sluggishly.

“Couldn't think of any other way to get you to shut the fuck up,” Eren retorts in a playful tone, and maybe it's the alcohol, but Jean can't help kissing him again because the way Eren's mouth forms words is unlike anything Jean's ever seen. 

“Hey..” Eren breathes against Jean's mouth, and his fingers are still combing through Jean's hair as he's begun to trail kisses down the brunet's jaw. Eren pauses, slightly dizzy, and notes the blond wasn't nearly so affectionate during their first encounter. “Hey,” he says again, but Jean is distracted by the way soft, warm bronze stretches over the lines in Eren's neck, so his lips go there and Eren is hushed briefly after breathing out a soft sound of enjoyment.

“At least put your beer down, moron,” Eren mutters, and he reaches for the bottle to set it aside while Jean instinctively winds both arms around Eren's waist once both hands become free. 

“Your skin's real fuckin' pretty,” Jean slurs against Eren's Adam's apple, and Eren rolls his head back to reveal more skin to him.

“You think so?” He mutters while trying not to laugh because a compliment at this point could only come from Jean if he were really shitfaced. Eren's fingers are tugging at Jean's hair now, prodding him experimentally, though he doesn't expect much from the drunkard. “What else do you like?”

The taller man seems to consider something for a moment, and he slides a hand up the brunet's spine beneath his shirt, tapping at his nape. “I like it when I bite here,” he starts, and he's grinning now, “-you fall apart.” Oh. He... remembers that? Eren's face begins to heat up as Jean breathes a small chuckle through his nose after saying this, and Eren can't help but find that crooked grin of his endearing. 

“What else?” Eren urges, and he gasps once he feels teeth at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and he's struggling to keep his hips still against Jean's while his eyes flutter closed. He nuzzles his face against Jean's collar, hiding the bright red hue creeping into his cheeks and ears.

“That,” Jean remarks, and he's sliding his hand back down Eren's spine, the skin prickling beneath his touch. “That sound. And the way your spine arches when you can't get enough.” He's got both hands on the rounds of Eren's ass now and he's squeezing, coaxing him to rock just slightly. Eren's become undone just listening to Jean's voice.

“What else...?” Eren breathes again, and his own voice is soft and gruff, taxed with the inability to get enough air to his lungs when Jean has him like this. His fingers are trembling, so he curls them tightly against Jean's shoulders to still them. 

“How about.. your hips?” Jean purrs, and his hands have moved up to grip Eren's pelvis, the pads of his thumbs trailing the bone there. “When you're swayin' 'em against me.. Yeah.. That's nice,” he drops his head back against the sofa now, letting out a long, pleased sigh as Eren begins to move with a little more pressure.

“Like this?” Eren coaxes, and he rolls his hips just so, causing Jean to groan in a low tone. 

“Yeah. Jus' like that,” he says, and something about the way Jean's slurring his words in that rough, tired voice has really got Eren unhinged.

Eren seems pleased with Jean's response, and one of his hands go to the zipper of Jean's pants to pull it down, then his fingers dip inside and they're playing against too-thin fabric. Jean hisses softly, and his vision goes to where Eren's hand is to watch it's movements. His dick is bulging through the opening where Eren's pulled down the zipper, pressed tight against the material of his boxer briefs like it's going to burst through at any given moment. He twitches all too eagerly against the heat of Eren's fingertips, and he hasn't even touched him bare yet. He feels Eren's palm flat against him, and he's applying a light pressure to his hard-on and Jean's throat tightens. “The fuck're you doin'?” He groans, biting the inside of his cheek to stifle his voice.

“There's a hot guy drunk on my couch, how could I not wanna bully 'im just a little?” Eren mumbles, and he just keeps fucking touching Jean through his underwear but won't do any more. He's sliding the knuckle of his pointer finger down the entire length of his cock's underside, starting from the base and working upward. Jean's thighs tremble from where he's sitting, the friction of the fabric against him causing him to twitch again.

“Just take it out already,” Jean urges, and his breath is a little burdened as he speaks and his heart is hammering against his chest like it's trying to get out of there and make a run for it. “My underwear's gonna get dirty.”

Eren chuckles, and Jean's shoulders tense up as he feels a finger at the head of his dick, pressing into it through the fabric in question. “It's a little late for that,” Eren says, and Jean grits his teeth in shame as Eren thumbs the small wet spot where his erection has leaked pre-cum from it's tip. 

“What a face you're makin',” The brunet continues, and he slides out of Jean's lap to kneel on the floor, and then his lips are replacing his fingers and he's trailing kisses up and down Jean's erection, slow and hard through his underwear. “And here I'd thought you'd be too drunk to be embarrassed,” He whispers after placing a kiss at the strained tip, looking upward to see the taller man dart his eyes away as soon as they meet. Jean is beginning to unravel beneath the heat of Eren's mouth, signified by a low, unhindered moan as Eren parts his lips and takes the clothed head between them to swirl his tongue in slow circular motions.

“Fuckin'... Christ..” Jean groans loudly, his fingers finding messy dark strands and tangling into them while his hips arch forward against Eren's mouth. “F'you keep doin' that, I-I'm.. gonna.. fuh-.. fuckin' cum...” He manages, and he's flushed all the way back to his ears; he can feel the heat on his face like hot oil, and he wishes he could sink into the couch to disappear from Eren's gaze.

Eren pulls back then, curling his tongue against his own lips. “Already?” He asks, but he's more than satisfied that Jean's become a panting mess because of him. “I'm just gettin' started.” He's back on the couch and in Jean's lap in an instant, and he makes quick work of Jean's pants and underwear. He yanks them down to about mid-thigh with a playful whistle, to which Jean responds with a light pinch to Eren's side. The shorter man grins, catches Jean's hand in his own and laces their fingers. 

“It'd be such a waste if you finished so soon..” Eren sighs, and he arches his hips forward so that Jean's bare cock rubs up against Eren's through his jeans. Eren's got his own bottom lip between his teeth, alternating between chewing and sucking; Jean notices he does this quite often apparently. 

“What?” Eren mutters, and Jean's eyes train upward to meet the emerald gaze. He's been caught staring, but he's not embarrassed enough to attempt to grace Eren with an explanation. Instead he moves to press their mouths flush together, and he gets his hand free from Eren's grip so both can work at Eren's fly, clumsily opening the denim hugging his hips. “Raise your ass a little,” Jean breathes against Eren's lips, and he complies so Jean can get his pants and underwear down. “Your leg,” He continues, and Eren raises one knee so that he can get at least one leg free from his clothing. 

“Wait,” Eren huffs into Jean's mouth, and he pulls back to feel around under the couch. When he rights himself again, he's got a box of condoms in his hand. Opening it, he pulls out a small bottle of lube stored inside as well as a rubber, handing both to the blond.

“So you just.. keep that shit under the sofa?” Jean asks with an arched brow, but he seems amused as he accepts the items handed to him.

“Please don't fucking ruin the mood right now,” Eren mumbles with exasperation in his voice, tossing the box somewhere with little care as he slumps forward to bury his face into Jean's shoulder. He feels the rumbling vibrations through Jean's chest as he chuckles, followed by the sound of the condom being ripped open, and then there's a hand at his ass, gripping it firmly to spread the cheeks. Eren knits his brows waiting for an intrusion, but instead feels a lubed up fingertip at his entrance, petting him in slow, teasing motions.

“O-oh..” Eren arches against Jean's fingertip, wanting it inside, while Jean just rubs there gingerly. “Come on, put it in,” he urges, so Jean does, and Eren makes a little sound like he was actually surprised that Jean complied.

“My turn to bully you,” Jean breathes into Eren's ear, his finger curling inside the smaller body to angle it just right so he can hit that sweet spot inside. When he does, Eren's entire frame tenses and shakes with want, and he cries out before biting into Jean's shoulder to stifle the noise. A smirk forms across Jean's features as he repeats the motion, over and over until Eren's moans have dissolved into desperate little whimpers and whines. He adds a second finger to the rhythm, strokes that spot a little harder, and the brunet is clinging to Jean like a lifeline that could snap at any moment.

“Your voice is pretty cute,” Jean mutters softly, and Eren replies with a sound that's somewhere between gratitude and annoyance. He feels Eren's lips against his neck, then teeth as he's nipped sharply with a quick, gasped breath and sweet little moan of Jean's name. The sound travels up into Jean's ear, settling somewhere in the depths of his brain where it's subconsciously stored for later use to be poked and prodded at on nights that he's alone.

Jean's fingers are slow as they spread inside Eren's warmth, loosening the muscles well enough, Jean decides, before removing them completely. He reaches for the lube that's rolled onto the cushion nearby and slathers a generous amount on his dick before nudging the head to Eren's entrance. The smaller man tenses as Jean's hips roll upward, slowly penetrating him while breathing out deeply through his nose. “Relax, would you?” Jean asks, and even though the wording is tactless, his breathless voice holds no poison. 

Eren gasps raggedly, tugging at blond and scratching at the warm nape of Jean's neck. “..Wanna.. switch positions an- a-ahn.. see how easy it is.. for you to relax?” He argues, embarrassed that he's so worked up, but thankful that Jean's at least not staring at him anymore.

“Nah.. I'm pretty comfortable here,” Jean retorts, and he's all the way inside, letting Eren adjust. “You were so good for me last time, so why are you fightin' it now?” He asks, and there's a palm at the small of Eren's back, keeping him steady as Jean slowly pulls back and thrusts forward again.

Eren's toes curl in the socks he's wearing, and he can barely hear Jean through the sound of his own heart pounding in his head. “I.. dunno. Can't help it,” he breathes, and it takes him a moment to realize that he's actually answering the blond instead of arguing that things are the same as the first time. His brain feels like it's working backwards, if at all. “Just.. shut up and fuck me,” Eren insists, crying out as Jean bucks his hips upward suddenly with the sound of flesh slapping to flesh.

“Ah, yeah...Mn. Th-that's nice...” Eren compliments while rolling his hips with the taller man's, and Jean is so deep inside him that he's seeing stars with each movement upward. **“God.. damn..”** Eren breathes, and Jean's mouth is hot at his neck with too much flesh beneath his teeth and he's biting hard enough that Eren is on the verge of screaming, but Eren doesn't pull away because the pain there is such an intense combination with the pleasure. His skin is all prickled with goosebumps and he tenses, but he doesn't want Jean to let go.

Jean's rhythm has become powerful and punishing. He lets go of the flesh he's abusing and winds his arms around Eren's slender waist to hold their bodies close. Eren makes a mournful sound once the skin is freed, rolling his shoulder with a wince at the dull, painful throb left in Jean's mouth's wake. Jean drops his head to pant against the shirt Eren's wearing, and breathes in his scent. 

Eren's smell is thick; a savory sweet like cedar and nutmeg; it's mixing with the smell of sweat, and Jean finds himself taken by it. He bites down on the knitted collar of Eren's shirt to pull it down and presses his nose to the brunet's bare collarbone, and breathes in deeply. He's more than taken with this scent- for some reason it's got his head swimming and his dick throbbing. He rolls his tongue along the skin, hoping to taste the smell that's got him going nuts as he bucks wildly against the frame in his lap. It's godda be the alcohol, Jean thinks again, not that he had the presence of mind to make sense of why he was so enamored with something as trivial as someone's scent. He kisses and licks and sucks across whatever skin he can get to, until he's finally frustrated enough by Eren's shirt to just pull it off him.

Eren is trembling as he watches Jean kiss across his now bare chest, heaving with his labored breaths. Those thin lips find one of the dusty brown nipples to claim it, and Eren cries out as Jean scrapes his teeth along the sensitive flesh while simultaneously thrusting into his heat. “Fuck, J-Jean, I-” He starts, but interrupts himself with a soft whimper as Jean wraps his fingers around Eren's cock and begins to pump him in time with his thrusts.

“Sh-shit, if you- ah.. d-do it together, I'll...” Eren protests weakly, and Jean fucking loves how sweet Eren's voice gets when he's close, because it's high and soft and so damn desperate. His thrusts are erratic as he's brought over the edge by Eren's sugary goddamn moans and whimpers, and his hand moves faster in Eren's lap until he's milking the brunet's cum against his shirt. Jean doesn't give a fuck that it's staining his clothes because when Eren cums, he coats Jean's name in honey, and it's like he's hearing it for the first fucking time.

When they both come down from the height of it all together, Eren's leaning his forehead against the blond's and panting softly. Eren grins after a moment, pressing their flushed cheeks together to hide the expression. 

“What are you grinning like an idiot for?” Jean asks tiredly, wiping his hand off on his shirt with his top lip curled.

Eren doesn't respond. Instead, he pulls back just slightly and huffs into Jean's ear as he begins to raise himself off the blond's lap. “Be still,” he instructs, and he pulls himself off of the taller body with a low grunt as Jean slides out of him. His thighs are still tense and burning, so he sits next to Jean instead of getting up completely like he'd planned, pulling one knee up to his chest in a gesture of some miniscule bit of modesty. He reaches for the bottle of beer on the end table next to the couch that he'd abandoned prior, and downs it's contents with a few long, loud gulps. Jean removes the condom he's wearing in the meantime and ties it off before depositing it somewhere on the floor, and pulls his underwear and pants back up with a grunt.

“You're stayin' here, right?” Eren asks, and the look Jean gives him lets him know that it was a stupid question. Jean looks tired and content and like he wouldn't move from that very spot if the apartment were on fire. “I was starting to enjoy your company, don't give me a look like that,” Eren mutters flatly, and he forces himself up with a hiss, finds his underwear and pulls them on before leaving the room. When he returns a few moments later, he tosses a folded comforter onto one end of the couch, and then Jean's vision goes dark before he realizes he's been blinded with a fresh t-shirt.

“What a gracious host.” Jean mocks, and he studies the worn out piece of clothing that was thrown at him before deciding it wouldn't be a bad idea to change into it. “So I have to sleep on the couch? When you stayed at my place, you slept in my bed,” he says while taking his sullied shirt off and sliding the new one over his head. Smells like Eren.

“That was different.” Eren retorts, so Jean shrugs and grabs the fluffy cotton comforter and pulls it up to his chin as he flops lengthwise on the sofa. “Whatever,” Jean says, and he's actually already half asleep pretty much as soon as his head hits the cushion.

“Oi, don't try to fuckin' guilt trip me.” Eren turns off the television that's become nothing but a humming background sound since the beginning and flips off the light, and it takes some effort for Jean to open his eyes and look up at the brunet. When Eren's vision focuses on the blond, his face is illuminated softly by the bit of light coming in from the hallway. Jean doesn't say anything, but for whatever reason, Eren is compelled to move closer to the couch. Maybe it was that sleepy expression of his, but it didn't matter anyway. Kneeling, Eren presses their lips together lightly. 

“Are you seriously tucking me in and giving me a goodnight kiss right now?” Jean asks, and he laughs because Eren looks embarrassed as hell as he stands and moves swiftly to turn away. Eren's about to leave, but stops as his wrist is suddenly caught in Jean's grip. It's quiet for a minute, and Eren doesn't turn to meet the gaze that he feels at his back when Jean says in that rough, tired voice of his.

“Stay.”

It doesn't take much to admit that the warmth of another body helps Jean sleep better, or that maybe he's become a little too fond of the way Eren smells. And right now, even though he's feeling a lot more sober than when he'd walked into this place, it's easy enough for Jean to blame these actions on the alcohol as Eren turns with a sigh. Jean lifts the comforter, and Eren slides in, half on top of Jean, half pressed into the back of the sofa. It's a tight fit, but neither of them mind. Eren's got his head on Jean's chest with an arm strewn across his waist, and he feels the deep, steady drum of his heartbeat. It's not long before he's lulled to sleep by that sound, his breathing even and quiet and his fingers curled at Jean's side.

Jean is exhausted, but he lies awake for some time after Eren's already fallen asleep. His eyelids are heavy as he turns his face into the mop of dark hair nestled just below his chin. 

Jean falls asleep without feeling that dull ache that lies deep in his being, and forgetting the person that caused it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hot chicks dancin' all up on Jean aren't anyone in particular. I just like slutty girls in general. Blondes. Brunettes. Red heads, throw em' at me please. Also, again I am super sorry that the perspective keeps changing between Jean and Eren. I've come to realize that I'm garbage, but if even one person enjoys this I can crawl back into my dumpster happily.


	7. T-shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Eren are both bipolar pissbabies.

Jean wakes up in the morning with a sore neck and a body that's become too warm splayed against him. At some point during the night, one of them had thrown the cover to the floor, but Eren had been warm enough for the both of them. Jean's sweating on his side now, so he untangles himself from the brunet, who groans in protest to the loss. Jean rubs his neck with a grunt, glancing over his shoulder at the shorter to see him squeezing his eyes shut as though the tighter he does, the better chance he has at going back to sleep. The side of Eren's face that had been pressed into Jean's chest for most of the night is red and lined with the wrinkles of his shirt. 

“Hey, get up.” Jean says, and Eren groans and rolls onto his side with a huff to press his face against the back of the couch to block out the light that's filtering in through the windows. Jean nudges him in his spine persistently, so Eren finally rolls back over to face him while blinking hard and frowning forcefully. 

“Fuck, dude, what?” Eren says tiredly, rubbing the sleep from both of his eyes. His body feels sore everywhere and he's cursing himself for sleeping on his own damn couch. “Ugh, what time is it, even?” He tries to squint at the cable box sitting next to the tv, but the digital lines are still pretty blurry in his current state. Jean follows his line of vision and grumbles.

“Almost two in the afternoon. And I'm hungry, so give me a ride to that club so I can get my car and go home.”

“You're high if you think I'm driving anywhere right now. Besides, we got a taxi last night, remember? My car is there too. Jesus, it's too early to be demanding shit, I just woke up.” Eren leans over the side of the couch to grope for the lost blanket and pulls it over himself. “Just lay back down for a lil' while.” He says while snuggling into the comforter, perfectly content.

“It's two o'clock.” Jean reiterates, shaking Eren's shoulder before he can attempt to slip back into sleep. “And do you have an extra toothbrush or something?”

“Uuuuuugh.” Eren pulls the blanket all the way up over his head. “Under the sink in the bathroom, Princess. Now leave me alone for a minute.”

Jean makes a sound like 'tch' as he gets up to find the bathroom. “Princess? Just because I don't want my mouth to smell like a shit hole,” he mutters to himself while crouching to dig under the bathroom sink, not caring about the things he's knocking over so long as it's making a lot of noise. There's tons of shit in this cabinet, and Jean's having no luck, so he's getting irritated. Razors and blades, rolls of toilet paper, cans of god knows what, Christ, does Eren have enough shit packed under here? Jean's knocked over probably his third or fourth can of aftershave or shaving cream or what-the-fuck-ever when Eren shouts from the doorway.

“ **Please** be a little louder, I don't think my neighbors the third door down can quite hear you.” He nudges Jean out of the way, rummages through the cabinet for maybe ten seconds, and then pulls out a packaged toothbrush to hand it to Jean. “It's not that serious.” He's looking at the blond incredulously before reaching for his own toothbrush that's nestled on one side of the back of the sink in a small green plastic cup. Turning on the water and reaching for a tube of toothpaste, he squeezes a generous amount of it onto the bristles before he begins to scrub his teeth. 

Jean frowns sheepishly while opening the object he'd had a hell of a time finding in the first place, and follows suit brushing his teeth. He's avoiding eye contact in the mirror while Eren finishes up. He's got white in the corner of a grinning mouth as he elbows Jean in his side, then spits. “You should make breakfast for me. Return the favor,” he suggests. 

Jean stops when he realizes he's actually mulling over the fact that if Eren has eggs, he could probably whip up some omelettes or something. He quickly whips his toothbrush from his mouth, “I'm not making you shit,” he says sharply, nearly dribbling toothpaste down his chin before hissing in the chalky white substance and then leaning to spit into the sink. 

“I see not all princesses are elegant,” Eren comments before leaving the room. Jean groans, splashing water on his face and scrubbing it with his hands. He stops to study himself in the mirror, noticing a pretty heavy five o'clock shadow coming in. Scratching at his jaw, he clicks the light off and leaves the bathroom. 

When he finds Eren again, he's sat at his kitchen table with a bowl of cereal and reading the cartoons on the back of the box. He doesn't look up at first, but he knows Jean is standing there. After finishing the maze on the cereal box with his line of vision, he shakes it at the taller. “Want some?” He asks while simultaneously spooning another mouthful of the sugary breakfast food into his mouth.

Jean nods, then makes to rummage through the kitchen cabinets for a bowl and spoon. He sits to take the box and pour himself a bowl of cereal not without scrutiny toward the brunet. “Anyone ever tell you that you eat like a hog?” He asks, pouring milk into his bowl to begin eating.

“All the time,” Eren replies, and he sounds proud of it or something. “So we should stop meeting like this. As much as I love our little breakfast dates, maybe we could, uh.. I dunno, do something else?”

“Trust me when I say breakfast was never in the plan,” Jean mutters, and he's looking at the back of the box now to avoid direct eye contact with Eren. He'd much rather help a little piece of cereal through a maze than entertain the brunet.

“Don't be a dick,” Eren says, and although he's feeling sheepish at the rejection, he's persistent. “I just thought maybe you'd want to hang out or something sometime.”

“Are you asking me out over bowls of cereal?” Jean asks, and he looks up now because he's actually, genuinely dumbfounded. “First of all, your tact fucking sucks. And, secondly, this... whatever it is that this is, it's nothing. I don't know anything about you aside from the fact you eat like your food is gonna be taken away from you at any moment.”

Eren's studying him now under that gaze that's so easy for Jean to read because Eren is one of those people that's obvious about everything. Either he's too simple to hide that he's been hurt, or too honest. Jean doesn't care which, only that for some reason he feels a pang of guilt for making him look that way. He's about to say something else when Eren's expression changes from hurt to angry, and the crease between his brow as he's glaring at Jean is dramatic.

“The fuck, man? Last night you were real sweet to me too, damn.” 

Jean stops eating. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs deeply because he's not quite sure what he's gotten himself into at this point. This whatever that he's got going with Eren isn't anything but a relationship of convenience. Eren just happened to be in the right place at the right time when Jean was feeling particularly needy. It wasn't anything more or less than that. 

“You ought to be a little more appreciative of my offer,” Eren says after Jean's waited too long to say something, and he seems to have recovered pretty quickly. Kid's bipolar or some shit. “I'm offering to hang out knowing you've got some serious baggage. And also knowing that you're a huge dick. I think that's pretty decent of me.”

“Tch.” Jean scoffs, and he's just pushing his cereal around in the milk it's floating in. “You're not doing me any favors.”

“Whatever. What kind of phone do you have?” Eren asks, and Jean is confused by the subject change, but pulls his cell phone from his pocket. As soon as it's in sight, it leaves his hands, and Eren's tapping away at it.

“Hey jackass, you don't just take someone's phone!” Jean grabs for it, but Eren moves quickly enough to avoid him. He finishes whatever it is he's doing with a wide smirk. 

“Ya got some nudes on here?” Eren taunts, “You know I've already seen your dick. Don't tell me you're one of those douchebags that takes pictures of his hard-on while comparing it to the size of a soda can or some shit.”

“Of course not!” Jean has nothing to be ashamed of, but the accusation makes his cheeks flare red. He successfully grabs his phone and sees that Eren's added himself to Jean's list of contacts. Glaring from the screen to the brunet, he presses his lips into a thin line.

“Now you can text me when you wanna keep doin' our 'nothing'.” He says, and lifts his bowl to drink the milk from it. When he's finished, he rolls his tongue across his lips and raises from where he's sat to clean up. 

Jean pockets his phone, averting his gaze from the shorter while leaning both elbows on the table to rub at the back of his own neck. “I wanna go home and take a shower,” he mutters after a moment.

“You know, the club is literally like fifteen minutes on foot from here, if that.” Eren says, “Want me to escort you there, Princess?”

Jean tenses at the name, pushing back from the table with both hands. “I don't need your fucking help to walk a couple blocks,” he retorts, and he notices his shoes by the door and his jacket on the floor not far away from them. “Thanks for the cereal I guess.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just give me a second to put some clothes on, I need to get my car, too.” 

Jean rolls his eyes while putting his jacket on and zipping it all the way up. He's out the door before Eren has the chance to follow. There's a nip in the air and he almost immediately regrets not waiting for the brunet, because he could have at least been used as a shield from the wind. He puts both hands in his pockets as he walks, and of course the wind in on-coming, biting his face, causing his nose and cheeks to go red.

“Hey, I said give me a second!” Jean hears behind him, followed by the sound of the rubber soles of shoes against pavement, and then Eren is next to him, bundled up in a sweater that's got to be at least two sizes too big for him, and a long black scarf wound around his neck. The jeans he's wearing are torn from knee to thigh and Jean wonders how he can manage ripped jeans in this weather. “You're fucking stubborn as shit, you know that?” Eren asks, gesturing with his hands while he talks.

“I've been told that once or twice,” Jean says, and the remark makes Eren grin. “Fuck, it's cold.” Jean says more to himself than the brunet, and as they're walking, he finds himself gravitating slowly toward the warmth of the body next to his until they're walking shoulder to shoulder, and Jean's head is ducked down close to Eren's trying to steal his heat.

“It's not that bad.” Eren says, pushing back against the weight of Jean's frame with his own. Jean notes that Eren's cheeks have become rosy, and it makes him look even younger than he already does. 

“So if this place is so close, why'd you even drive?” 

“Well I don't normally pound down drinks so I thought I'd be okay to drive home. I usually just go there to dance and maybe get some action.” Eren shrugged, “I stay there until I'm tired, so I don't normally feel like walking home after.”

“Ah,” Jean makes a sound of understanding. He's thinking about the way Eren dances, completely distracted until he feels an elbow in his side. 

“Daydreaming, princess?”

“God, would you stop calling me that?”

“Why? It's cute. And it bothers you, so I think I'll keep doin' it.”

“With that logic, you must have a lot of friends.” Jean mumbles, and the street they're coming up on is looking slightly familiar, so they must be close. 

“It's around the corner here,” Eren says as as they round the street. Jean catches sight of the parking lot, as well as just two cars in it. They continue to walk shoulder to shoulder until they're at Jean's car, and he gets out his keys to unlock the door and slide inside.

“You can give my shirt back next time.” Eren says, and Jean makes an expression of realization because he's forgotten that he'd been wearing Eren's shirt since last night. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looks at Eren with a pensive expression. So it wouldn't be as easy to avoid Eren as he thought.

“Yeah,” Jean agrees, “I'll, uh.. wash it or whatever. Should I drop it off next time I'm free or? I mean you could come pick it up when you're free?” He feels like a moron for forgetting, and now that he thinks about it, he was in such a hurry to get out of there that he's left his shirt somewhere in Eren's living room.

“Next weekend.” Eren nods resolutely, “I'll bring beer and a shitty movie to your place.” He then closes the driver's side door before Jean can attempt to protest. Turning on his heel, he heads toward the only other car in the parking lot and gets inside it, and then he's gone.

Jean sits there for a moment wondering what just happened, exactly. Maybe Eren's tact is a little better than he thought. Shaking his head, he puts the key in the ignition while the corner of his lips tug into something of a smile.

–

When Jean gets home, he deposits his keys on the dining table and slings his jacket over the back of one of the chairs with a huff. Being here now, the place feels heavy. He looks around, wanders into the living room, and realizes that he fucking dreads being here. The feeling in the pit of his stomach is a sick one, and Jean hates it. He runs fingers through his hair, sighs. He's looking at photos of memories that don't matter anymore, and from grief, to anger, he begins to gather them. He's not angry at the person in these photos; no, he could never bring himself to be. He's infuriated with himself. He doesn't know where he finds the strength to take frame, photo, memory and all and throw them away, but once he sees the barren walls in his living room, he feels a sense of relief. He doesn't have the urge to go retrieve the bottle of pills that he's relied on for so long, and this is a first in quite a long time.

Jean flops onto the sofa, pulling his phone out of his pocket to see that somewhere during the course of his drive home, he's gotten a text message. Little shit must've taken Jean's number down when he'd stolen his phone.

**From: Eren**  
 _hey hope u made it home ok_

Jean shakes his head, taps out a response, and sends it.

**To: Eren**  
 _Don't need you to babysit me, pancake boy._

**From: Eren**  
 _damn I was tryin 2 b nice_

**To: Eren**  
 _I'm gonna take a shower, so I'll talk to you later._

**From: Eren**  
 _think of me, princess ;)_

“God.” Jean groans, tosses his phone on the opposite end of the sofa, and gets up to make his way to the bathroom. Pausing in the mirror, he runs his hand along the stubble on his jaw. Better shave first, he decides as he reaches under the sink for a can, pours some of the contents into his hand and then smears it along his chin and jaw. He shaves carefully, washes his face, and reaches for a towel from the rack, but there's nothing there. Oh well, since he's about to take a shower anyway, he raises the collar of his shirt to wipe at the dampness. When he smells the scent that doesn't belong to him, he stops.

“Right.” Jean mutters to himself, but he doesn't pull the fabric away from his face. He's breathing in and smelling it like some fucking weird ass obsessed stalker, but... fuck, it smells good. There's a warmth settling in the pit of Jean's gut as he breathes in, and then he remembers why he came into the bathroom in the first place. He leans to turn on the shower and test the water's temperature while letting the collar drop back down into place. He unbuckles his jeans and undresses, taking the shirt off last. He's about to drop it onto the floor with the rest of his clothes when he decides, 'Fuck it.'

Stepping over the tub and leaning against the furthest wall of the shower where the water can't reach him yet, Jean makes a small sound of disapproval as his back presses to the cool tiles while they rob his skin of it's warmth. The bottom of the tub is warm with water where Jean's toes curl as he presses his face into the shirt that he's taken into the shower with him. His opposite hand is drumming fingers against his own thigh. It's not long before they've moved, curling around his dick that's already half hard because he's never done something like this before and maybe he should be ashamed, but he's really not in the slightest. 

Jean's hearing that honeyed voice calling out his name, and before he knows it, he's panting into the fabric. He's picturing that sinful arch in Eren's spine and the view of his ass high in the air the first time they fucked. Jean's brow is knitted with pleasure as he rolls his head back against the tiled wall. He's pumping himself fast, flicking his wrist in a twisting motion and smearing precum along the shaft all in the same go. He imagines Eren's flushed face twisted up in pleasure while riding him, sucking on his bottom lip until its swollen like he always does. Jean's groaning into the fabric that smells like Eren. 

Eren. 

“Eren..” he moans, and he finds that he doesn't mind the ease with which it falls from his lips. He envisions those round hips rocking in his lap and how god damn good they are at it, too. “Fuck, Eren,” he moans shamelessly again, and he likes the way the name feels and tastes on his tongue and the way it sounds when his voice reverberates off the walls as he says it in a strained tone. Jean's close. He props one foot up on the edge of the tub to steady himself as his hand moves faster and he breathes in the brunet's scent deeply. He remembers intense emerald, half lidded and clouded with lust, looking only at him while pleading, and Jean cums while gritting his teeth. 

“Fuck..” he sighs through panted breathing, and tosses the borrowed t-shirt onto the floor outside the tub and steps into the steaming water to rid himself of the mess he's made. He curls and uncurls his toes as he lets the hot water hit him, while the shame that he maybe should have felt in the first place rises up from inside his being.


	8. Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh look something crawled up my ass and I wrote the next chapter. Hue hue.
> 
> Sober Jean has way more personality than drunk Jean, and Eren approves.

“Woah, Jean, is that a grin?” A familiar voice calls from Jean's right. He'd been too distracted with the words on the screen of his phone, or rather, the person behind them, to realize that his long time friend and co-worker, Connie, had approached him. The restaurant is slow today so everyone's got a little time to kill, and Jean's outside nursing a smoke and tapping away at his cell phone when his hazel gaze rolls over to the shorter.

He's met with a wide smile from the other man, his big golden eyes creasing with the expression as he places a hand in the pocket of his slacks and shakes his head. “No need to be embarrassed. It's a good look for you, really. I mean it's been so damn long since anyone's seen you grin like that.”

“Don't be ridiculous, grinning is in our job description,” Jean counters, gesturing to the dark apron tied at his slim waist before taking a long drag from the cigarette that's almost gone out on it's own.

“No, I mean a genuine one.” Connie states, and Jean's almost embarrassed. Almost. So he turns his gaze back to his phone when it vibrates in his hand to avoid eye contact.

“Look man, Sasha and I have been kinda worried about you for a while now. But lately you've.. I dunno it's like you're kinda back to the Jean we used to know, and it's.. well, y'know, it's really nice.”

Jean clears his throat, and Connie gets the hint for once and thinks maybe he should stop, so he doesn't press the issue.

“You seem to be doing really good lately. We're happy for you,” is all he says, and it's quiet for a moment before Jean offers over his pack of cigarettes to his friend. 

“Thanks,” Connie says while taking one.

“Nah. Thank you.” Jean says low while still keeping his eyes trained on his phone, but it's loud enough for Connie to hear, so the other man beams while lighting up and settling in next to the taller. 

Every morning that Jean wakes up, he thinks of something else that he needs to prepare for his little guest this coming Saturday. It's been a while since he's cleaned, really cleaned his apartment. Then he realizes why the fuck does he care? No, but he should still clean up around here. The dust is terrible. There's nothing in the fridge besides cheese and old milk. Maybe he should get snacks or something? Now that he thinks about it, he's not sure what Eren likes. Tch, who cares? He'll just buy what he likes and if Eren doesn't like it, he doesn't have to eat it. 

It's been so long since Jean's fussed over such trivial, idiotic things that it wears him out. The day is over almost as soon as it's begun. He's back at work, distracted and hoping that every time he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket that it's a text message and not a new junk email or weather update. They go back and forth with their messages, learning small trivial things about each other. (Full names is one, and they've taken to playfully calling each other by last names in their texts.)

Jean doesn't know how to take it when he's laying in bed one night and realizes he's actually looking _forward_ to this. Anxiety is the first thing that hits, but it's not the same anxious feeling that he's been trying to stunt and ignore these past months. The fact that he can't quite place the emotion frustrates him. He puts it off. He must just be excited that he's pretty much guaranteed a good screw when Eren visits. He sighs, rolls onto his side and stretches his limbs out against the mattress way too accommodating for one person.

Saturday rolls around. Jean's had an early work shift that lets him be home by five in the afternoon. Once he's in the door, he sheds his clothes like a snake sheds its skin and he's in the shower, washing away the stress from the day. The warm water soothes his muscles and he stands under it for quite some time before deciding he ought to get ready for tonight. Once he's out of the shower, he finds his good jeans and a button down, olive colored plaid. He sprays on some cologne and checks himself out in the mirror. He catches himself smiling, and red creeps up the back of his neck and stains his cheeks.

“Get it together, Kirschtein.” He mumbles while narrowing his eyes at his own reflection, tipping his chin in the air with a frown. He leans with both hands on the edge of the sink while gathering his thoughts. He's... he's allowed to be happy about this, right? This thing that he's called nothing but might actually be a little something? What was the 'little something' anyway? Friends with benefits? Well.. that would have required them to be friends in the first place, wouldn't it? Fuck buddies? He could hardly call he and Eren 'buddies' though.

Jean's roused from his thoughts when he hears the doorbell. He rights himself, gives himself a final once-over, and goes to answer the door. When he opens it, Eren's standing there with a grocery bag in each hand. His cheeks are flushed red from the cold and he pushes inside before Jean invites him in. Which is totally fine, since Jean's having a hard time making eye contact since this is the first time he's seen Eren face to face after furiously jacking off to the thought of him. He feels awkward, but Eren doesn't seem to catch the vibe as he starts shedding his heavy coat and kicking off his shoes.

“Shit, it's cold!” He announces while handing both grocery bags to Jean who's hurriedly closing the door behind them. 

“So I know I said I'd bring a _shitty_ movie, but,” Eren pauses, fishes inside a messenger bag hanging at his hip, and pulls out a DVD. “I brought The Avengers instead. You've seen it, right?”

“It's been awhile.” Jean says while making his way to the dining room where he sets down the heavy bags Eren's brought. There's a few cans of beer, soda, a family sized bag of cheese flavored chips, and various candies inside them. He puts the cans in the fridge and turns to see Eren hanging his coat over one of the dining chairs. 

“Oh, almost forgot,” the brunet starts, and he's digging around inside his bag again, taking out a neatly folded shirt that Jean recognizes as his own. “Washed it for you like I said.” He offers, and Jean takes it silently, reveling in the fact that it smells like Eren's place. Like Eren.

“I've got yours too,” Jean says, and he goes to retrieve it from the bedroom. He grimaces once he grabs it from the pile of folded laundry on his bed. It's folded, yeah, but he'd left it in the laundry basket too long after taking it out of the dryer, so it's creased and wrinkled pretty unattractively. He mumbles under his breath as he makes his way out of the bedroom and finds Eren already in the living room sat on the couch with his chips and a soda. 

“Just leave it on the table in there, I'll get it before I leave.” Eren makes a dismissive gesture with a cheese powder covered hand and Jean goes to set the article of clothing on the chair where Eren's left his coat and messenger bag. 

“By the way, love what you've done with the place.” Eren says around a mouthful of chips as Jean sits on the sofa next to him, and he tilts his head toward one of the barren walls with a crooked grin. “Proud'a you.”

“Yeah, well. I didn't do it for **you**.” Jean's about to explain himself when he realizes he's not quite sure what compelled him to take down all the pictures of old memories that don't matter anymore. His heart starts to ache while he mulls over the abandoned photos before Eren tilts his bag of chips toward him. 

“Want some?” 

Jean sighs, gratitude floating about in his subconscious from being snapped away from what could have become a downward spiral. He grabs a chip and places it between his lips, then gets back up to collect the movie Eren's brought and puts it on while crunching around the offered snack.

“Who's your favorite?” Eren asks while Jean's got his back to him.

“What?” He asks dumbly, searching for the remote to the player while Eren talks.

“Your favorite Avenger? You said you've seen this movie, right? I bet I can guess who your favorite is.”

“Iron Man's pretty cool.” Jean says after clicking on the TV, and the music from the title screen blasts through the speakers.

“Ha, I figured!” Eren shouts, apparently proud that he's pegged Jean's favorite character. 

“Oh? Then how about you?” Jean asks while taking his seat next to Eren again, this time sitting a little closer than before. 

“I like Captain America.” Eren says without skipping a beat, watching the action sequences roll across the title screen. “Have you read any of the comics or seen the Captain America movie?” Before Jean can answer, Eren's right back to it, “He wanted so bad to fight. You know, for the good of the people. He wanted to dedicate himself to that, but he was so weak that he couldn't. But even though he knew he was weak, all he wanted was to fight for what was right, what mattered. He was so determined, you know? Like I can't help but feel like that's a super admirable quality. He never gave up no mater how many times he was told that he wouldn't accomplish his dream.”

“Sounds like he had some kind of death wish to me.” Jean mutters, but he's watching Eren talk. He gets this far away look while he's explaining this character, and Jean thinks for a moment this expression Eren has is... really attractive. He's got this glint in his eye while he talks that Jean catches even in the dimly lit room. He thinks that maybe had he been born in a different time or place, Eren could probably rouse things inside people, good people, with his ideals alone. Hell, maybe he could even get the shittier people to contemplate what was Eren's very idea of right or wrong.

“You would say that,” Eren laughs while elbowing Jean in his side, interrupting Jean's thoughts as he goes on. “You have to admire someone that would give themselves to better humanity. Even when it seemed hopeless for him, he didn't quit. He's got better character than most people in the real world.”

“Kinda seems like you wish you had a war to fight.”

“Sometimes I do,” Eren says, and he raises his thumb to his lips to suck some of the cheese flavoring from it. “I mean I'm not particularly good at anything, but my right hook's nothing to sneeze at.”

Jean grins at this, shaking his head while clicking the play button on the remote. Once the movie starts, Eren settles in with his eyes trained on the screen while mindlessly crunching away at his chips. He doesn't say anything for a little while. Jean keeps getting distracted by Eren's profile. He seems to be really into the movie rather than Jean's presence. The blond stretches a hand over the back of the sofa behind Eren's head, and it catches his attention for a fraction of a second. Eren responds by pulling his feet up on the cushion, leaning in to the offered space of Jean's side while not peeling his eyes off the screen. 

“How many times have you seen this movie?” Jean asks, amused that Eren is so taken with it.

“'Least a hundred.” Eren responds while offering his bag of chips to the taller and taking a sip from his can of soda. 

Jean snorts, and it gets Eren's attention. He finally peels his eyes from the screen to look at him, and he's met with a slight grin. 

“What? It's one of my favorite movies! It's good!” 

“I never said it was bad.”

“Are you bored? Why are you fuckin' antagonizing me? How can you be bored, there's so much action in this!”

“I'm not bored,” Jean reassures him, and it placates Eren enough that he settles back down at Jean's side to watch the movie again. Jean puts the bag of chips on the table in front of them, while the fingers on the back of the couch mindlessly wander toward Eren's warmth. They settle on his shoulder where he trails absent-minded shapes against the sleeve of the brunet's shirt. He's trying to get Eren's attention, and it appears to be working as his hand descends lower, playing at his side before finally settling on his hip. Eren's lips are pressed into a thin line as he tries to ignore the sensation of touch at his side because shit is going down in this movie and it's important, alright.

“You smell good.” Eren mutters after a moment.

“You too.” 

Eren looks up through his eyelashes at Jean with a questioning look.

“Hn? I don't normally wear cologne, though.”

“Everyone's got their own smell.” Jean justifies, not making eye contact with Eren now. He's right, there is a lot of action in this.

“Oh gross, don't tell me you're one of those guys that sniffs used underwear or something.” Eren can hardly say it without laughing, and even though it's spoken in jest, Jean's face heats up considerably.

“Christ, no, shit, that's not what I meant-” He's about to defend himself when Eren's laughter grows louder.

“Dude, I was kidding!” He says between his fit where he can find the chance to suck in air to his lungs, wiping at his eyes with the balls of his palms. “Your face, your fucking face is so priceless!”

Jean slumps down into the cushions feeling sheepish, narrowing his eyes at the screen of the TV and unwinding his arm from around Eren to cross both arms over his chest.

“Come on, don't be like that,” Eren says, shoving the taller with both hands and forcing his arm around his frame again. “I was joking, man. Come on. Aww look at that grumpy face. Little grumpy face.” He says while playfully slapping a hand to the blond's jaw, which doesn't do much to better his mood.

“Stop that, I'm trying to watch this movie.” Jean mumbles, and Eren laughs again.

“My ass. You've barely been paying attention.”

Jean mumbles something under his breath, and Eren leans in close, forcing eye contact.

“Wanna make out or something?” He asks with a grin, and Jean pauses, like he has to think about it. His delay only gives Eren time to fist both hands in the collar of Jean's shirt and pull him in, and before Jean can process it, their mouths are met hard and Eren's teething his bottom lip. It's instinct at this point- Jean's mouth opens to allow for Eren to invade it, and he even relaxes and relinquishes control to the brunet. 

Eren's tongue is slow and sure in it's movements. He's all too familiar with the inside of Jean's mouth, the taste of him. Jean's enjoying the deep roll of Eren's tongue against his own, the way Eren suckles on his bottom lip and playfully nips it. He trails the roof of Jean's mouth with the tip of his tongue and the blond groans softly against the other man's lips. Eren releases Jean's shirt to comb a hand roughly through the longer part of Jean's hair, then pulls once he reaches the ends of it. Jean's not too proud of the sound it elicits from the back of his throat as he's pulled from Eren's mouth forcefully.

“I'm starving.” Eren huffs, and Jean doesn't know whether to have been expecting that or to actually be pissed about it. 

“You gonna order a pizza?”

“Oh my God,” Jean groans, pushing Eren away with disbelief. “I'll order a fucking pizza but you're paying for half.”

“Whatever. Get bread sticks too. And I like pepperoni and mushroom.”

Jean orders the food, and it doesn't take long for it to arrive. They're more than half way through the movie when it gets there, and Eren is already pulling a slice out of the box before Jean can retrieve plates.

“Oh right, I forgot you're a caveman.” Jean notes as he takes a seat next to him, placing a couple slices of pizza on the plate he's brought and popping open a beer.

“What? No sense in dirtying up plates.” Eren mutters around a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni.

“You wouldn't even have to wash them.”

“Hm, you're right.” Eren takes another bite. “Gimme a plate and a glass to pour the rest of my soda in.”

“Now you're just being a prick.” Jean says while biting into his slice. 

“I thought you were into pricks.”

“Don't be an asshole.”

“Huh, pretty sure you were into those, too.”

“Oh my god, you're so **annoying**.”

Eren laughs, and the sound makes the corners of Jean's mouth twitch upward into a smile. They carry on like this, back and forth, teetering between getting on each others nerves and making the other laugh. The movie ends and they're still carrying on, feeling each other out, testing the waters and seeing how far they can push each others buttons. Jean embarrasses Eren by laughing at him when he gets hiccups from drinking out of his can too fast, and again when he points out red sauce on one of his cheeks. Eren gets back at Jean by rubbing their faces together to smear it across the blond's cheek instead, and Jean is wailing with laughter while trying to push the brunet off of him, but he's got Jean pinned pretty well against the arm of the sofa with their fingers entwined, and the laughing's got him a little weak so he can't fight back as well as he'd like. 

“You know.” Eren says. (He hiccups after it which causes Jean to make a sound like 'pfft' beneath him.)

“I know I said once that I like you more when you're drunk, but-”

It hits a nerve. Jean's smile fades quickly as his eyes stay on the brunet's features. He feels like the stitches of a deep wound have popped open too soon, leaving the flesh raw and open and too susceptible to the elements.

“I think this Jean is better,” Eren finishes, and he thinks he's said something wrong because Jean is just staring at him, searching his eyes. 

“You mean that.” Jean says finally, more of a statement than a question, and Eren nods. Of course he means it. The stupid, honest moron that he is. Jean's not even sure Eren has the capacity to just say something that someone else wants to hear just for the fuck of it. Jean doesn't know how else to respond. His mind has gone haywire as he thinks back to all the instances that he's none too proud of while drunk or high. Then there are those nights that he was so trashed he doesn't even remember. And for so long. To accomplish what? Does he really hate himself so much? He feels shame begin to well in his gut, followed by regret, and finally anger. These things wash over him in seconds and he feels overwhelmed. His first reaction is the want to push Eren off of him, but for some reason, he doesn't. Eren lowers himself so there's no space left between them, their chests flat against one another. 

“Hey,” Eren murmurs, and it snaps Jean away from himself long enough to forget what he's thinking about.

“Stop that.”

“What?” Jean asks, and he looks away from the boy on top of him, finding the little green light on the DVD player and keeping his eyes there.

“Whatever it was you were thinking about. Your face changed.” Eren smiles seeing the bit of red sauce he'd smeared on Jean's cheek. Unwinding his fingers from Jean's, he licks the pad of his thumb and scrapes it off, the motion making the blond turn back to those big green eyes that Jean thinks hold the secrets to the universe in their depths- if only they could be plucked from the boy's skull and dissected by some sick scientist.

“Yeah. Must've been a real stupid looking face, too.” He says low, watching Eren watch him, wondering what he's thinking.

Eren is searching Jean's features with eyes half lidded, and he takes his own bottom lip between his teeth for a second- the thing he does so often that makes Jean immediately want to kiss him- while leaning a little closer.

“Nah,” he says, and his voice is soft and tempting, and they're already this close so Jean doesn't think about it as he claims Eren's lips with his own while realizing in that very instant that he'd been wanting to do this for quite some time now. He wonders if Eren even grasps that he's opened a wound and left Jean vulnerable and stupid and wanting. When the warmth of Eren's mouth leaves Jean's, and those huge eyes that once devoured his soul but were thoughtful enough to return it are looking into his own, Jean realizes. 

He realizes that he's fucking terrified.

Eren seems to notice the blond's doubt, and in a gesture of reassurance, tightens his hold on Jean's hands. He doesn't say anything as he kisses along one side of Jean's neck, setting his flesh on fire and boiling anxiety in his stomach at the same time. He's raw, damaged, and all out in the open and he fucking hates it. Nothing ever works. Nothing ever lasts. Why did everything Eren say take purchase in Jean's entire being? It was like the words were injected deep into his bloodstream and the only way to get away from them was to die from their sweet poison. He can't tune the kid out either because even his whispers are like screams to Jean's nerves, and his body knows and wants what Eren has to give and so, so much more. Jean goes lax where he hadn't realized he'd been tense in the first place, relinquishing himself to the acceptance of his very own death. Who knew the grim reaper had a name, and that he was beautiful and honest and magnificent and everything that Jean wasn't?

Eren's kisses are light, feather light against Jean's flesh, and each one seems to soothe more than the one before it. His anxiety evens out until it's flat-lined and then almost forgotten. Jean's breathing becomes shallow as Eren's mouth descends, finding the first button below his collar and in some form of magic, pops it open with only his teeth. He's needy, weak, body ablaze with the want for some type of satisfaction to validate his very being. Jean hears Eren whispering his name. Hearing it assures him that he's still alive, that although he's made nothing but mistake after mistake, this- what's happening right now- isn't one of them. Their fingers untangle, and Eren's working at the rest of the buttons of Jean's shirt until it's completely open. The fabric lays limply at his sides while he moves to comb long fingers through the messy strands of Eren's hair appreciatively. His skin crawls beneath Eren's lips as he kisses at his navel, his hips, anywhere his mouth can claim flesh, it devours as though hungry. 

“Eren,” Jean breathes, and the name feels natural rolling from his tongue, the taste of it even sweeter now that it's owner is present and the cause of Jean's breathlessness. He gasps feeling the brunet mouth over too-tight denim. “ _Damn_ , Eren..” He repeats while tugging Eren's hair, and it's enough to have him hurriedly removing Jean's pants and boxers down to mid thigh. Jean's back arches as Eren continues, ghosting kisses down each thigh in turn, before pulling back just slightly. He's drinking in the sight of Jean, needy and earnest, with the most intense satisfaction. When it's been too long since Eren's lips have made contact with Jean's skin, he lets out a soft, impatient sigh, and Eren readily obliges by wrapping his fingers at the base of Jean's cock to satiate him.

“Nh...” The sound he makes is soft, bitten off with a clenched jaw while Jean looks down just as Eren's mouth engulfs him. He lowers his mouth slowly, inching his hand away until his nose is buried in the curls at the base of Jean's girth. He feels himself hitting the back of Eren's throat. Jean has never been a religious man, but he finds himself believing in the Divine while watching Eren's cheeks hollow around him. “ **God** , fuck... **_Eren_**... _God_.” He babbles incoherently, and for a second their eyes meet and stars begin to dance at the corners of Jean's vision. 

Eren's brow is narrowed in concentration. He's watching Jean writhe beneath him, his thighs trembling, his face flushed. Jean keeps tugging at his hair and Eren can feel the urgency in those fingertips as they scratch at his scalp. Jean's flesh is so pale and pretty, and Eren is focused on the way the skin pulls over the lithe muscles of his abdomen and bones of his ribs as he arches and gasps into the sensations provided by Eren's tongue. Jean's brow is furrowed with pleasure, eyes half lidded and focused on nothing in particular but still more aware than Eren has ever seen him. Laying there only half dressed with his clothes bunched around him, Jean is quite the sight; sexy and inviting and erotic and all for the taking. Eren can't help himself, he pulls off for a moment to murmur with swollen lips. 

“Damn, just _**look**_ at you.” 

Jean's breath catches when he hears it, suddenly feeling all too self conscious and aware of prying eyes. He manages to flush an even darker shade of red, and then he forgets his embarrassment once Eren's mouth is back on him. He's kissing slowly, tenderly down the straining length of Jean's shaft, while his fingers caress the fleshy sack beneath. He feels Eren huff against the base before he travels all the way back up, teasing him, wanting him, loving every bit of flesh his mouth and fingers can reach. He feels worshipped beneath Eren's tongue, and it elicits a soft keening sound from Jean that he'd tried to stifle. 

The brunet smiles, and then he's got Jean between his lips again. Eren's rhythm is slow so that he can take Jean as deep as possible, and it's got him on the brink sooner than later. Jean's fingers curl and tug and muss Eren's hair, but he seems to appreciate it well enough as he groans around Jean's length. It's taking everything in his power to keep his hips still, and then Eren's free hand is at the small of Jean's back, sliding down to his ass and squeezing, _encouraging_ him to rock his hips in time with Eren. Jean falls into it almost automatically, his spine arched lewdly as he thrusts into Eren's mouth, breathing out short, second long moans each time. His toes curl and his entire frame trembles. He's not going to last long.

“Fuck, I'm.. ghh- gonna cum,” Jean warns, and he feels Eren lick at the crown of his dick, smoothing over it, teasing it, letting him know that it's fine like this. Jean rolls his head back against the arm of the couch as it grows increasingly harder to breathe. “ _Eren... **Eren**... f-fuuck..!_ ” He moans, nearly choking on the name as he's brought over the brink. 

When Jean cums he's certain that he's died because his vision blanks and he swears he sees God. 

Eren swallows around him, pulling back with a deep intake of air. When Jean's vision clears he sees Eren wiping at his mouth with the back of his sleeve, then rolling his tongue across lips that have become fat and puffy during their sweet endeavor. Jean tries to catch his breath, his body weak and shaking as he comes down from the height of orgasm, and palms at both his eyes.

“That's the first time you've really let me hear your voice,” Eren says, his own coming rough from the strain to his throat. 

“First time you said my name like that, too.” 

“It's the first time in a long time that I've done something like this not high or drunk off my sorry ass,” Jean admits, and he's surprised that he's said it so easily. He looks at Eren between his legs now and is all too aware of how his body is exposed, so he shifts to pull at least his underwear back up.

“Yeah. I really do like you more like this.” Eren says, and Jean doesn't understand how he can just say shit like that. He folds an arm behind his head, the other resting on his own bare stomach as Eren grins at him with endearing, imperfect teeth.

A moment passes and Eren rights himself, running a hand through his own hair with a sigh, “Shit,” he murmurs as he's noticed the time, sat back on his haunches while straddling Jean's knees.

“I didn't plan on staying too long after we were done with the movie. I picked up an early shift for tomorrow morning.” He explains, looking almost apologetic.

“Hn? It's not that late.” Jean says.

“Yeah but I've got to be up at like the asscrack of dawn. Plus I'm positive I'll get lost on the way home.” He shifts, and it gives Jean the leverage to pull himself up and fasten his jeans back in place. Eren's already standing, smoothing down his clothes and looking a little worse for wear. Jean thinks he could at least return the favor and help Eren get off before he leaves, but he seems to be determined to get out of there. Jean goes to retrieve the DVD Eren's brought, meeting him in the kitchen where he's already got his coat on and his bag slung over his shoulder.

“So when are you free next? Maybe we could grab something to eat?” Jean tries, and he can't remember the last time he'd invited someone out like this. He's waiting for rejection or an excuse when Eren beams.

“Jean Kirschtein, are you inviting me out on a date?” Eren smirks, adjusting the strap of the messenger bag across his chest as they make their way to the front door.

“I never asked you on a date, I'm offering to feed you.” Jean retorts, and he can feel the heat at the back of his neck.

“Alright. Pick me up Thursday. And take me to seafood.” Eren says while slipping his shoes on.

“Fine.”

“Can I get the most expensive thing on the menu?”

“I don't care.”

“Dessert, too?”

“Don't push it.”

“I'm getting fucking dessert.”

“I'll leave you in a Burger King parking lot if you keep arguing with me.”

“Tch,” Eren huffs, opening the door and turning to meet Jean's gaze. “You wouldn't do that to me. You like me.”

“Don't flatter yourself,” he mutters, feeling Eren is expecting something since he hasn't left, but his hand is still on the doorknob and he's just.. staring. Jean's leaning with his side against the wall, one hand planted at his hip.

“You're a shitty liar, Kirschtein.” Eren says, frustrated by the mere three inches Jean has on him as he takes a step closer and cranes his neck to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Wear something pretty for me, okay?” Eren teases.

“You too,” Jean counters, smiling a little when Eren turns and closes the door behind him. Jean locks it, leans his entire back against the wall, and scrubs both hands through his hair with a deep sigh.


	9. Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Armin, the sassy bffl.
> 
> Jean and Eren go on a date. \o/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much dirty talk in this chapter. 
> 
> Also Happy Valentines Day, Everyone! Whether you're spending it with someone special and gettin' your frick frack on/cuddling if frick frackin' aint your thing, hanging out with friends, or spending it alone and waitin for all that candy to go on sale tomorrow- I hope it was a good day for all of you!

Eren sits at a small, round cafe table across from a petite blond. The little light haired boy just so happens to be Eren's best friend, and he's always been a sucker for quaint little places like this. Eren looks around at the few other patrons before training his gaze back to the other man, who's quietly putting his phone back into his pocket after receiving and replying to a text message. Eren takes a long swig from the strawberry smoothie placed on the table in front of him before mumbling with his mouth mostly full, “So I met this guy,”

“Oh?” The blond asks with just about as much enthusiasm as someone about to get a tooth pulled without looking up from the cup of tea he's stirring sugar into.

“Oh come on, Armin! I've barely started!” Eren groans, and Armin's lips curl upward into a sly little smile.

“Eren, listen. If I had a dollar for every time you started a conversation like this, I could pay off the rest of my student loans.” He laughs after saying this, bringing his cup to his lips and gingerly sipping from the hot black tea inside.

“Why not have your professor boyfriend wave them?” Eren counters, and Armin's cheeks go red before he can even muster a reply.

“Sadly, that's not how it works.” He says quietly, then quickly changes the subject while cupping both hands around the warmth of his teacup. “So this guy you met? Another one you picked up from the bar or something?”

“Well it was a hookup at first but then we bumped into each other again.” Eren leans with both elbows on the table while chewing the end of his straw. “He's super hot. Tall. Got a little baggage though.”

“Who doesn't have baggage?” Armin asks with a quirked brow, folding one leg over the other beneath the table and leaning back while searching Eren's expression. “Anyway, you met this guy, hooked up, bumped into each other, and then?”

“Well we hooked up.. twice? Then I went over to his house for a movie and he asked me out on a date. Which is like.. a big deal for him, I think. Like a super big deal. You know the first time I went over to his place, he had pictures of his ex **everywhere**.”

Armin makes a hissing sound as he intakes air and huffs out, “Yikes.”

“Right!” Eren leans forward, his voice a little too loud, “Anyway, so I go over there on movie night, right? And they're all gone. Like he's had some kinda epiphany or some shit. Like I know I'm good, but I didn't realize I was **that** good.”

“Oh my god, Eren.” Armin rolls his eyes, but he can't help but smile while Eren is making such an amused face at him. “I'm sure he just came to the conclusion that the photos weren't doing anything for him. I'm almost positive it was a personal decision and had nothing to do with your one night stand.”

“I mean you're probably right, but it felt so good seeing them gone. Besides I'd kinda.. pointed it out that it was strange to have pics of your ex still up after breaking up.”

Armin nearly chokes as he takes another sip of tea. “Oh my god you didn't.”

“...It kinda... slipped out the next morning after we screwed?” Eren sounds sheepish. “But in my defense, I didn't think I'd ever see the guy again! I mean he lives like forever away.”

“The day you think before you speak is the day hell freezes, Eren.” Armin sighs, feeling a slight tinge of second hand embarrassment for his poor, stupid best friend. 

“Okay, okay, I realize that was probably stupid to say, bu-”

“Probably?” Armin interrupts. “I'm surprised he agreed to hang out again after that.”

“Alright, damn, okay, I may have fucked up there, but listen!” Eren's getting pretty animated as he speaks now. “I don't know anything about his relationship from before, just that he took it real bad when it ended. But anyway, we're goin' out later this week and like... I'm actually super excited? And kind of nervous?” Eren rubs the back of his neck, looking down at the pink frozen liquid in his clear plastic cup.

“I'm happy for you, but,” Armin starts, leaning with his chin in one hand. “I wouldn't get too excited yet. You said yourself that he's wounded, right? He could be using you as an outlet, too, you know.”

“Yeah I know,” Eren mutters, going back to chewing his straw, “And I mean, I'm pretty sure right now he is? Or was? I dunno, I don't think you ask someone out to eat and offer to pay for everything if you're using them as an outlet?”

“That's called being buttered up.” Armin says flatly, regretting it almost as soon as he's said it because he sees Eren's shoulders slump forward dejectedly like his entire body has just deflated. Sighing softly, he reaches across the table to pat one of Eren's hands with his own warmed ones. “I'm only being this harsh because you're my best friend. And I worry.”

“I know.”

“And I know how you are and I know you sometimes don't pick up guys from the best places.” Eren nods after Armin says this. “I just think you deserve a lot more than what you give yourself. Understand?”

Eren nods again, meeting Armin's ocean blue gaze.

“I just want you to be careful. You go headfirst into everything and give it your all, but if this guy isn't going to meet you halfway then he's not worth it.”

“Yeah, I know.” Eren agrees, still looking dejected because Armin is right about everything all the fucking time. 

“And as cliché as it sounds, I don't want you getting hurt,” the blond mutters around the rim of his cup.

“I'll be fine. He's just buying me food, it's not like we're getting engaged or anything, damn.”

“Free food is the quickest way to your heart.”

“Shit, you're right. And he let me pick the place. I'll be in love before the waiter ever gets to us.” They both have a laugh over this, only calming down when Armin pulls out his phone after it's chimed in his pocket.

“Oh, seems like Erwin is going to be home early. I wanted to do some laundry before he got home, so I better be off.”

“Such a perfect little house husband.” Eren coos, and Armin makes a dismissive gesture with his hand.

“Oh be quiet. At the rate things are going with you and Mr. Hot and Damaged, you'll be doing laundry for two in no time.” Armin teases while putting his phone into his pocket and pulling on the coat he'd had draped over the back of his chair.

“ **Please**.” Eren mutters into the palm of his own hand after leaning his elbow on the table.

“Anyway, let me know how your little date goes, okay?”

“You know I will.”

Armin smiles and turns to leave, while Eren keeps his mouth in his palm and gazes out the window he's sat next to. He thinks about what Armin said about being used as an outlet, and thinks that it's probably okay. They've had fun so far, and that's all that really matters, right? So long as they're enjoying themselves, he decides it's alright to be something that used to fill up the time. 

_“It's the first time in a long time that I've done something like this not high or drunk off my sorry ass.”_

Eren blinks slowly, eyes focused on nothing in the distance while his heart begins to pound.

==

When Eren wakes up Thursday morning, there's excitement swimming in his belly. He checks his phone to find a text message from Jean and grins at the screen.

**From: Jean**

What time are we trying to do this?

**To: Jean**

idk whenever ur free and hungry

Eren rubs the sleep from his eyes and rolls over onto his back while waiting for a reply. It comes a few moments later.

**From: Jean**

Should be off work around 5:00. Guess I'll pick you up around 6:30-7ish?

**To: Jean**

Yea sounds good. Lookin forward 2 it

It takes a little longer for Jean's reply this time.

**From: Jean**

Me too.

Eren smirks, tosses his phone onto the mattress and turns his face into his pillow to conceal the ugly smirk forming across his features.

Unfortunately though, it doesn't take much for the day to get away from Eren. He becomes enveloped in this and that, from old video games to web comics, and when his phone chimes with a text from Jean that says he's getting off work, Eren hasn't even showered yet.

“Shit,” he groans, all too aware of his procrastination as he tromps off to shower quickly and get dressed. He pulls a green button up from the closet, followed by a light gray, hooded vest that he'd only bought because Armin told him it looked good when he tried it on at this little store in the mall. It buttons, but Eren chooses to leave it open. He still feels like a tool in the button up though, so he rolls the sleeves up to his elbows with a nod of approval before pulling on his best jeans- a dark acid wash that's almost too tight on his thighs but it doesn't matter because it makes them look delicious. He looks at his reflection in the mirror on his dresser, turning to get a view of his ass and grins while shoving his hands into his own back pockets. “Outta control, Jaeger.” 

Eren spends the next twenty minutes trying to tame his hair to no avail. He gets frustrated and stomps out of the bathroom to flop onto the couch with phone in hand. Jean sends him a text that he's on the way. Right on time, of course. His stomach growls at the prospect of seafood and that it's going to be in front of him very, very soon. He hasn't eaten since he'd gotten out bed earlier today, which may not have been the best idea, but fuck he wanted to have as much room as possible for dinner tonight.

He's boredly swinging one leg off the couch when his phone chimes, and it's a message from Jean telling him to come outside. He gets up, grabs his coat, slips on his shoes, and is out the door probably a little faster than he'd like to admit.

When Eren approaches the car, he sees Jean studying himself in the mirror in the fold down visor, which he quickly flips back up once he notices Eren at the car door. The brunet slides inside with a smile, “Don't worry, you look hot,” he says, and Jean manages a slight smile as he backs out of the parking lot.

“You look pretty nice today,” Jean says without taking his eyes off the road, and Eren nearly beams, but manages to quell his excitement at having been complimented. “Thanks! I guess this is the first time you've seen me wear something other than a t-shirt, isn't it?”

“I didn't think you knew shirts with buttons still existed.” Jean teases, and Eren scans him and sees that he's wearing a button up similar to the one he'd worn last time they'd seen each other. This one is blue though, with little black stars all over it. He's wearing that leather jacket- the one Eren swears was tailored just for Jean, because it fits his shoulders perfectly and falls at just the right place to keep him looking long and thin and fucking hot. He's got that insanely attractive wide-shoulder-to-thin-waist ratio that makes Eren's mouth go dry, and this stupid jacket sits on that kind of frame just right. The jeans he's wearing are a dark gray with that worn out look on the thighs and Eren wonders how the fuck he even got into them when Jean chuckles and brings him back to himself.

“You're unusually quiet.”

“I'm really hungry is all,” Eren says, “And of course I fucking know button up shirts exist. Shit.” He retorts belatedly, sinking into his seat while red creeps into his ears because he was so enamored with what Jean's wearing that he couldn't even be bothered to come up with a witty comeback in the first place.

They spend the rest of the car ride making idle chit-chat and arguing over radio stations. Their taste in music is similar in some respects, but Jean is one of those people that likes to have full control of his music. “My car, my radio,” he said when Eren had changed the station. It was a song that Jean favored but apparently Eren wasn't such a fan.

“Yeah but this song is annoying.” Eren mutters, changes it again, and Jean slaps his hand.

“Don't touch my radio.”

“Oh my god are you even serious right now?” Eren changes it again, gets his hand slapped again, and then finally decides to just turn the volume all the way down. Jean hazards a glance toward Eren to find him pouting and glaring at the road in front of them. He won't admit that those big eyes glaring at nothing and plush lips set into a frown are actually pretty cute.

“You're a real fuckin' brat, you know that?” Jean asks while lighting up a cigarette and cracking his window to filter out the smoke. “Grumpy cause you're hungry, huh?” He continues while placing the cigarette between his lips for safe keeping, arching a brow while stealing another glance at the shorter.

“Fuck off, I'm not a kid,” Eren mutters and turns the volume back up because even a shitty song is better than Jean being condescending. The blond laughs now, and Eren's ears burn brighter, but he smiles a little too, turning toward the passenger side window to hide it. He likes the sound of Jean's laugh. And his stupid taunting. And the way he can talk with his lips around a cigarette. 

When they pull into the parking lot of the restaurant, Eren nearly bounces out of the car. He meets Jean's side and they walk shoulder to shoulder. A tiny, pretty woman greets them, putting on her best customer service smile and Jean can see that it's a tad forced. She's clearly uncomfortable after realizing how close he and Eren are standing. Jean doesn't say anything and Eren is too enthralled with the lobsters in the tank to their right to notice her at all. Jean thinks he hears Eren whisper something like “You're mine,” while making eye contact with a particularly large sea creature waiting for death.

“Your server will be with you shortly,” the pretty woman says, scurrying away once Jean nods his approval and Eren buries his face in his menu.

“What're you getting? Hoooh... they have seafood fondue here. And lobster bisque. I want one of everything.” At this point it's pretty clear that Eren is talking more to himself than the man sitting across from him, so Jean quietly opens his menu to figure out what he'd like to eat.

“Oh, crab legs!” Eren chimes, strangely enough at the same moment Jean scanned that particular item. “I think I might get that instead of the lobster... What do you think?”

“I think the crab legs cost less than an entire lobster.” Jean muses, folding his menu and setting it down as they're approached by a brunette wearing red lipstick. She has a pretty smile and friendly air about her that isn't forced or faked in any way. She takes their drink order and is quick to return to take their food order. Eren's looking at her, watching the way she watches Jean, and he's not stupid enough to miss the way she stands particularly close to his side of the table. When he asks about sides, she even makes a show of leaning across the table and opening Jean's menu to show him the options. One of those options being her breasts, apparently.

Once Jean settles on his salad as a starter, and orders the crab legs as Eren had been contemplating, the brunet can't help the jealousy the boils in his gut after the waitress coos at Jean. “Oh what a great choice, sweetie. You'll love the crab legs here, they're fantastic!” She's got one of her perfectly round hips cocked to the side after she's finished taking his order, and Jean is smiling at her and she's smiling back. The waitress seems to have forgotten Eren's presence for a fraction of a second, but fuck if he doesn't make himself known.

“Oh, **_babe_** , that sounds delicious,” Eren practically purrs, his voice a little too loud. He makes eyes at Jean before turning to the waitress. “I'll have what he's having, thanks. And add a lobster bisque on there, would you?”

She straightens immediately after hearing the word “babe” and realizing it's not directed at her. Eren feels satisfied.

“Coming right up!” She says, and she's gone in a flash.

Jean's just sort of staring at Eren, completely perplexed. He notices the red tinge to Eren's ears. “...What the hell was that all about?”

“Tch.” Eren scoffs, and he looks like he's holding back. 

“ _Babe_? Seriously?” Jean presses, folding his arms over the table.

“Well, what the fuck was I supposed to do? She was-”

“Oh my god you're _jealous_.” Jean interrupts, and the red that had taken place upon the shell of Eren's ears begins to spread to his cheeks. 

“Yeah! Okay? Fine. I am. She's hot and she was into you so I'm fucking jealous, okay?” Jean's trying to get Eren to pipe down because apparently he has no control over the volume of his voice and he's not trying to create a scene in a fucking seafood restaurant. 

“Hey, shh. Be quiet, it's fine.” Jean starts, and he can't reach Eren across the table because he's leaning back in the booth with his arms crossed over his chest now. He finds Eren's foot beneath the table and taps it with his own, then slides the toe of his shoe up to Eren's ankle.

“You've got nothing to worry about, alright? Yeah she's pretty, but am I buying her dinner tonight?”

Eren immediately feels stupid. He doesn't make eye contact as he leans forward and rubs sheepishly at the back of his neck. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and it's probably the softest Jean has ever heard him speak. He smiles and shakes his head and keeps rubbing at Eren's ankle lightly.

Eren fumes in a mixture of jealousy and embarrassment. He didn't need to act like that- especially when he and Jean aren't even an exclusive item yet. Wait, **yet**...? Meaning he was kind of hoping they would be at some point? _Shit_. 

_Shit shit shit_. 

“Oh my god,” he groans, mussing his own hair with both hands. Jean sees Eren looking panicked, completely unaware of his inner turmoil, and arches a brow so high it might disappear into his hairline.

“You gonna be okay? You're kind of freaking out for no reason.” 

“No. Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry I just. I guess I'm nervous or something.” Eren recovers quickly, tries to fix his already wild hair, and finally makes eye contact with the blond again. Why did Jean have to be so fucking hot? He was just sitting there with his thin, pretty lips, perfect jaw, long, slender nose, and stupidly gorgeous hazel eyes. Eren's staring, but he comes back to himself before he can embarrass himself anymore tonight.

Jean notices Eren staring, but it doesn't bother him in the least. If anything, it also gives him the opportunity to really look at Eren's face. The restaurant has soft lighting, making Eren's already bronze skin look a little darker. His cheeks still have that slight red tinge to them. When Eren teethes at his own bottom lip, Jean forces himself to look away. Eren doesn't even realize he's doing it. It's become Jean's weakness. 

“So have you gone on many dates since... Y'know, the last guy you were serious about?” Eren asks, hoping it's alright to bring it up.

“Mm.. None.” Jean says, and Eren is relieved that he's answered with only a slight pause. “My last relationship was really important to me. We were together since high school. Engaged. The whole bit.” Jean says while squeezing lemon into his water, then takes a quick sip from it. “Guess I kinda went wild after.” He pauses. “There are some nights that are worse than others, where I feel like I wanna do just about anything to forget, but...” He trails off. _But I haven't really needed to since you kept coming around._ The thought is something of a startling realization for Jean. He begins to shut down, anxiety begins to swell, then Eren speaks.

“Am I allowed to ask what happened?” Eren prods, feeling brave and stupid at the same time.

Jean collects himself before answering. “He just left,” he says matter-of-factly, but Eren catches the bitter tone beneath it.

“There had to be a reason though.”

“He told me he didn't love me anymore.” Jean sighs, and his heart has picked up a little as they're talking, and it still hurts, but Jean is, surprisingly... fine. He's fine talking about it like this. He's completely okay telling the story to someone who _wants_ him, who gets jealous over him, who looks at him like he's the _only_ person on the _entire fucking planet_.

“It was my fault, really. I got lazy. I stopped being romantic and.. we just got stale, I guess.” Jean's chest feels tight and he looks up from his glass now to see Eren leaning on the table like every word Jean says is hanging in the air between them and he wants to make sure he can reach out and grasp every last one. 

“But Marco was the kind of guy who's really passive-aggressive. When something was wrong, I was just supposed to _know_.” Jean looks thoughtful, “Like just then, when you got jealous over the waitress. He wouldn't have said anything. In fact, he would have been super sweet to her, and then would have gotten quiet for the rest of the meal. Now since I'm a fucking dumbass I wouldn't have picked up on it. Sure I'd have asked him what was wrong, but he'd probably tell me it was nothing and change the subject.” Jean stirs his straw in his water with a soft clink of ice against glass. 

“I guess now that I think about it.. he started sighing a lot more.”

“That's it?” Eren asks, a look of disbelief set across his features. “Must've been exhausting to keep that shit to himself. Like just then I thought I'd explode.” Eren laughs, “You know, you can't really blame yourself for it ending like that. If he wasn't going to tell you how he felt, then it goes both ways. Like how the fuck were you just supposed to pick up on that? I know I wouldn't.”

Jean pauses. He'd never once blamed Marco for anything. Never thought of it any other way than it completely being his own fault for letting things end up the way that they did. He sighs like he's been holding his breath.

“Yeah,” he says, and for some reason his chest doesn't feel tight anymore.

“I mean, seriously. If things are stale then you can suggest something new. I dunno, I mean... I'm sure after being with someone for such a long time, things can get boring, but- It's work. You godda work on it. You can't just let shit fizzle out on it's own without _trying_.” Eren's not really sure where all of this is coming from, considering he's never been in a serious relationship in his life. 

“Mr. Relationship Advice.” Jean laughs, “And you?”

“Nh?” Eren inquires around his straw.

“I mean it's only fair if you tell me about your past boyfriends, right?”

“Oh.” Eren says dumbly, takes another long swig of his soda, and leans back. 

“I mean... I've never really had a serious relationship, exactly? I dunno. Up to this point I've kinda just.. slept with guys once and.. that was that?”

“What, did daddy not love you enough or something?”

“Tch, no, nothing like that. Just... I dunno, most guys can't keep my attention for very long. Like, I'll definitely think a guy is hot, but typically the guys I pick up have pretty bland personalities. That can't keep my attention, you know? But you're not like that.”

Jean's lips quirk into a little smile. “No?”

“No.” Eren confirms, “Every time I see you, it's something new. At least I feel that way. I notice something I didn't before. Or, you open up a little more. Something like that.” His ears have gone red again, and Jean can feel heat creeping up the back of his neck.

“So for now I've got your attention.” Jean says, and when Eren looks at him his light eyes are sultry and inviting and Eren's mouth goes dry immediately. He wonders if Jean even intended to look that way.

“You ever think that it wasn't them, but maybe your personality they couldn't handle?” Jean asks, “I mean, you are a little... _intense_?”

“I'll take it as a compliment.” Eren muses, taking a long drink from his straw. “I'm not gonna change who I am just because someone's got a big di-” He stops as the waitress approaches them with their salads and Eren's soup. Eren smiles apologetically because he's pretty certain she'd caught the end of that. After she leaves, Jean's shoulders shake with laughter and he's trying to stifle it to not draw attention to their table, but he can hardly contain himself. He's clutching his stomach with one hand and muffling laughter into the wrist of his other, and seeing him like this, Eren can't help but laugh, too. So they're both laughing like idiots and probably creating something of a scene, but at this point neither of them care.

“Holy shit that was hilarious,” Jean mutters after recovering for the most part, and Eren just shakes his head and stabs at his salad before bringing a huge bite to his mouth and chewing.

“You set me up,” he decides, pointing his fork at the taller, who only laughs again as he mixes up his salad before taking a bite.

“I didn't, but I wish I could take the credit for it.” Jean says, pushing a cherry tomato around his bowl to cover it in dressing.

The rest of their dinner goes without incident. Eren doesn't realize he's making a fool out of himself because apparently he can't even bother with table manners in public. Jean can't help but find it amusing. By the time they're finished, they're both content and full and happy. Jean lets Eren order a dessert to go, and his face actually lights up like he's won a million bucks. Eren's got one of those faces where you can just tell exactly what he looked like as a kid, and Jean can't help but smile seeing him excited over something so simple and trivial.

When they get back in the car, Eren hums contentedly to whatever comes on the radio. He's looking out the window when he feels pressure on his left thigh. He looks down into his lap to find Jean's hand there, and his skin crawls beneath denim. He looks up at Jean, who's got his eyes on the road, but apparently he feels Eren's gaze.

“I'm allowed, right?” He asks, and as innocent as the gesture is- he's just touching him, not rubbing or trying to rile him any way, but it's doing pretty much exactly that without meaning to.

“Yeah,” Eren says, and then Jean's thumb starts to move slowly, rubbing into his jeans where his hand rests. Eren turns to look out the window again, but his throat is tight so he can't hum anymore. 

The drive back to Eren's apartment seems a lot faster than before, and the brunet is surprised when he sees Jean get out of the car. He walks Eren to his door, the shorter fumbling with his key in the lock before finally getting it to turn properly. 

“Thanks for going out with me tonight.” Jean says, and Eren's shoulders stiffen as he turns to meet the blond's gaze.

“You bought me dinner, I should be the one thanking you.” He says, and he's got his back pressed up against his front door because Jean is moving in close. His eyes half lid, focused on the taller man's mouth as he speaks.

“Yeah, but you showed me a good time,” Jean insists, “So thanks.” He's close. Really close. One of his arms is rested against the door, pinning Eren there, but the brunet hardly seems to mind.

“All I did was make a fool outta myself.” Eren protests, and before he can say anything else, Jean's moved in to seal their lips. Eren lets his head fall back against the door with a soft 'thunk,' while sparks fly down his spine. Jean's gotten bold, testing Eren's bottom lip with his tongue, sliding a hand down his side to rest at his hip. The blond is quick to deepen the kiss the moment Eren's tremble apart. Eren can't even touch him back; he's holding the small white box with his dessert in one hand and his keys in the other. He elicits a defeated sigh nonetheless, giving in to Jean's warmth and taste and scent. He's forgotten how cold it is with Jean this close and his own blood boiling.

“Mm, wait-” Eren mutters against Jean's lips, reluctant as hell to break the kiss, but he knows if they continue like this, he'll have Jean in his apartment in a matter of seconds. And he wants it, god does he fucking want it, but somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks maybe it's not okay to be an outlet after all.

“Sorry, I just- I've got some stuff to do, and.. Work in the morning an' all.” Eren manages, his voice soft. Jean nods in understanding, taking a step back and smoothing a hand through his hair. He looks calm, but his heart is pounding.

“Yeah,” he says, studying Eren with cloudy eyes. 

“Text me when you make it home?” Eren asks. 

Jean nods, smiles a little and says, “Don't need you to babysit me, Pancake boy.”

Eren swings a playful punch at Jean's arm with a clink of keys. “Just shut up and do what I say, _Princess_.” He twists the doorknob behind him and steps inside his apartment while teething his bottom lip. He notices Jean's eyes dart away.

“Night.” Jean says, hazarding a quick glance upward to see Eren has let go of his lip, _thank God_ , and waves almost awkwardly.

“Night.” Eren replies, grinning before shutting the door and locking it behind him. Eren's heart is hammering against his ribcage even as he deposits his little container onto his kitchen table and kicks off his shoes in the living room. He sits on his couch with nothing to do but contemplate whether he should have invited Jean inside or not. Mindlessly, he peels off his coat and tosses it onto the couch beside him, though his body still feels overheated. He should have invited him in. It's not even that late. Even if it were to just make out a little more, that would have been fine. Who the fuck is he kidding? Eren knows it certainly wouldn't have stopped there. Ugh but Jean looked so _inviting_ , and _eager_ , and he was the one that even started it! 

“I'm going to bed early,” Eren decides at last, pulling himself up to shed his clothes and make his way to the bedroom. He burrows under his sheet and comforter with his phone in one hand, nuzzling his face into the plush comfort of the multitude of pillows strewn about the top of the mattress. He lays there for quite some time, drowsy but unable to sleep, until his phone vibrates in his hand with a text message from Jean, letting him know he's at home.

–

Across town, Jean pulls into his parking lot and sends a text as soon as he's in the door. He takes his shoes off and goes to hang up his jacket. He'd surprised himself tonight with how confident he'd been, but now that he's alone and thinking back on it, all he can decide is that everything he said or did was probably stupid. Not that it took much to impress Eren, but even so. He feels self conscious about making a move. Maybe Eren had changed his opinion about Jean ever since learning about what had happened before. He must seem really fucking pathetic to him.

“Ugh,” he mutters, his entire frame collapsing like dead weight into the recliner in his living room. His phone buzzes, and he taps the screen to read it.

**From: Eren**

Glad ur home safe

And then, shortly after;

**From: Eren**

Can't sleep. Whatre u doin?

Jean sighs, scrubs a hand over his face, and taps his reply.

**To: Eren**

You're in bed awfully early, it's no wonder you can't sleep.  
And I'm just sitting in the living room contemplating my mistakes lmao.

He gets a reply right away.

**From: Eren**

I thought itd b a good idea 2 turn in early. Guess I was wrong.  
Wat mistakes?

Dont start that self loathing bullshit when im not there

**To: Eren**

Why would it matter if you were here or not?

**From: Eren**

If I were there an u started feelin shitty I could kiss the princess all better

Jean feels heat rise to his face as he types out a reply.

**To: Eren**

Well I kinda feel shitty already.

**From: Eren**

Guess I can do the next best thing then

Almost as soon as he reads it, Jean's phone buzzes wildly as a call comes through. Nearly choking on his heart as it jumps into his throat, he stabs the screen to answer and put the phone to his ear.

“Stop it,” Eren says, his voice rough and relaxed from his failed attempt at sleep.

“Like I can help it.” Jean mutters, and he hears Eren sigh. 

The brunet stirs, rolling onto his back. Jean hears the movement of the blankets and doesn't say anything.

“I wanted to invite you inside.” Eren says, “I should have, cause I feel lonely now.”

Jean's eyes half lid. He doesn't know if he'll ever get used to how honest this guy is.

“Yeah. Would have been nice to see you a little longer.” He finds himself saying, and his heart is racing and his face is burning and he's glad he's talking to Eren on the phone, because he'd be ashamed to show him a face this red.

“When do you wanna hang out again?” Eren tries, closing his eyes because he's tired but Jean's voice has got his nerves on high alert so there's no way he'd be able to fall asleep like this.

“Whenever you're free.” Jean says, leaning back in his recliner so it rocks just slightly.

“If you wanna do something, I'll pay this time.”

“Whatever you want.”

“You're awfully accommodating.” Eren chuckles, the sound soft and sweet and laced with fatigue. Jean swallows.

“I guess I just don't wanna make the same mistakes as before.” Jean admits, and he doesn't know where it comes from. “I actually wanna make sure I try or something. I guess.”

Eren's heart pounds like a war drum in a wild, frenzied rhythm and he blinks slowly. “You're a sweet talker.”

“No, I mean it.” Jean says, finding it a lot easier to talk like this than face-to-face with Eren's intense eyes looking directly at him while hanging on to each word. There's silence from the other side for a while, and Jean's wondering if Eren is trying to think of some gentle way to let him down.

“Yeah. Me too.” Eren says finally. “I wanna try, too.” Another pause. Jean listens to Eren's quiet, even breathing. “But I wish you would have said that when you were here.” 

“Sorry.”

“Now I really **really** wish I had invited you in.” Eren says with a slight whine, and Jean smiles.

“I'd have jumped you, though.” 

“Ain't that the point?” Eren laughs tiredly. “Are you in bed yet?”

“No, it's too early.” 

“You'd be in bed if you were here.” Eren teases, and the way he says it sends heat to Jean's gut.

“Would I?” The blond asks, unconsciously gripping his phone a little tighter.

“Mhm,” Eren sighs the confirmation. “And I'd be kissin' you, makin' your face go all red. You look the cutest that way.” Eren pushes wild strands of hair from his own line of vision as he combs his fingernails along his own scalp.

“What makes you think I'd let you take the reigns?” Jean asks, and his voice has gotten quieter, more intimate. “What if I pinned you down and started the kissing first?”

“Pinned me down?” Eren inquires softly, and Jean can't see it but his eyes have closed into clouded slits as he imagines the blond getting bold. He drops the hand that was tangled in his own hair onto the mattress beside him instead. “Maybe that wouldn't be so bad.” He decides. It's quiet for a moment before Eren asks;

“Where would you kiss me?”

Jean's throat tightens. He imagines Eren's expectant expression in the time it takes him to answer.

“I'd start with your lips,” he says in a low rumble, and it makes Eren teethe at his bottom lip. “Then down your chin, your jaw... Your ear.” Jean shifts in his recliner, pulling up the footrest and bending his knees as he props up his feet.

“Mm,” Eren brings his arm back up, mumbling against the back of his own hand, his skin prickling with gooseflesh even though he's alone. He repositions his grip on his phone, holding it close.

“Your neck,” Jean continues, “You always make such cute sounds when I pay attention to your neck. I'd kiss and lick and bite you there until you were squirming beneath me.” Jean leans back with his eyes closed. His heart is going nuts. He can't help the smirk that forms across his features as he enjoys his own new found boldness. 

“Would you like that?” He asks when Eren doesn't say anything for a moment.

“Yeah,” The brunet replies immediately, sounding dreamy and far away. “I'd love it- your lips all over me.”

“Wherever you wanted.”

“My chest?”

“Mhm.”

“My stomach..?”

“Yeah.”

“My thighs?”

“ _Especially_ your thighs.” Jean almost groans imagining it, but he keeps the sound at bay. He sucks on the inside of his jaw while noting that Eren's breathing has picked up a bit.

“I'd make sure to leave lots of little marks on them. So even after I was gone, you'd remember where I'd been.”

“Oh,” Eren practically moans into the mouthpiece of his phone, and it makes the hairs on the back of Jean's neck stand on end. Eren feels the heated flush that forms across his own face, brows furrowed slightly as he drums the fingertips of his free hand on a bare thigh. The stabbing awareness of longing sits in Eren's gut and spreads like hot oil across his insides. Everything feels hot and suffocating and he knows he can't have what he wants right now and it's so fucking frustrating. But that does little to sate the fact that the low, rumbling vibrations of Jean's voice are perfect and sensual and they've set Eren's body on fire.

“Jean?” Eren's voice sounds strained.

“Yeah?”

“I'm hard.” 

“Hn,” Jean breathes out a little breathy chuckle. “Me too.”

“Tell me more... about what you'd do to me if you were here...” Eren whispers, the fingers on his thigh sliding inward. His skin is heated and sensitive to even his own touch now, and when Jean starts speaking again, it sends electricity through his nerves and causes his toes to curl.

“I'd wrap my fingers around your cute little cock,” Jean says, and it's so perfectly vulgar that Eren's brow knits tightly. The brunet's fingertips move mindlessly, sliding past the elastic of his underwear to wrap around himself while he tries to stifle a soft moan. He's already leaking just from hearing Jean's voice.

“And... A-after that..?” Eren slowly slides his hand from the base of his cock to the tip, collecting precum to lubricate his hand's movements, and when Jean talks this time, his voice is a little more breathless than before.

“I'd stroke you nice and slow,” Jean says, and there's a faint clinking of metal to metal as he fumbles with his belt and jeans, then his underwear, pushing them down to get some relief. His cock lays hard and heavy against his belly before he takes it in his hand and strokes, groaning softly into the phone.

“Don't fuckin' tease me,” Eren huffs, and he's thumbing his tip gingerly while gasping. “You know how I like it...”

“I know you're _impatient_ ,” Jean laughs, and the sound is low and sexy and makes Eren's dick twitch in his own hand.

“I am,” he mutters, his hand moving a little faster, “But how am I- mm... supposed to calm down when you're so fucking sexy?”

“I'm not the one who's sexy. You should see what you look like with my dick in your mouth.” Jean arches his back into his hand while envisioning it. “..Should be fucking illegal,” he groans, more to himself than the person on the other line. 

“And you should see what you look like when you cum,” Eren whispers, and Jean throbs hearing it. Jean picks up his pace, flicking his wrist in a twisting motion as Eren speaks while trying not to groan too loudly because he doesn't want to miss a single thing the other man says. “God, the expression you make... With your face all twisted up in pleasure... Just thinking about it is driving me crazy.” 

“Fucking... Shit, Eren..” Jean mumbles close to the mouthpiece, “You don't have a goddamn clue what you do to me.” He pants, trapping his phone between his ear and shoulder to free his other hand. He brings it to his mouth now to teethe lightly on one finger before speaking again. “If I were there I'd fuck you brainless.”

“I know you would,” Eren purrs, “N-nh...You always fuck me so good, Jean,” he moans, and Jean can tell by Eren's breathing that his rhythm has picked up, so he moves his hand to match the brunet's pace. He wonders what kind of face Eren's making now.

“I'd put your legs over my shoulders and just- mhh.” Jean bites the inside of his cheek, then lets it go and smooths his tongue over the spot he'd bitten. “Wanna hear you saying my name over and over while you cum.”

“J-Jean...” Eren sounds absolutely **_wrecked_**. Jean grins knowing he's the cause. He's imagining those wild dark locks spread out over the pillow, his face flushed, thick brows knitted with pleasure while sweat rolls down his forehead. His fucking teeth biting at his bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth, suckling on it, then letting it go. Eren's fat, swollen lips.

“Your voice sounds so sexy, Eren.” He praises, and the brunet responds with a breathy moan. “Are you close?”

“Y-yeah... Already... I can't- a-ah... help it... Even though it's just me- I want you so bad, Jean.” Eren imagines the deep, hard roll of Jean's hips, how he hits that sweet spot so fucking perfectly. Jean's mouth at the nape of his neck, his breath against his ear. 

“How bad?”

“ _ **So fucking bad.”**_ Eren whines, and he's starting to babble, completely unashamed of the filthy shit that's coming out of his mouth. “I wanna ride your big cock-... A-ah... an' get fucked by you so hard that it hurts to walk the next day.” 

Jean throbs and gives himself a squeeze, smearing his fingertips in warm, oozing precum with a trembling breath.

“I wanna feel you cum inside me... Filling me up.” 

“ _ **God dammit**_.” Jean groans, and he knows he's going to lose it any second. He leans forward into his erratic pace while listening to Eren go on, eyes squeezing shut as his insides tighten and coil and he's brought so fucking close to that mind-searing apex.

“Eren, I'm gonna cum,” Jean gasps, and he hears that familiar height in Eren's voice, knowing that he's about to hit that breaking point, too. He has a vision of Eren arched in his lap with his legs wrapped possessively around Jean's hips, and then he hears his name, over and over.

“Jean... Jean... Nh, Jean, I want you here... Uhn-... _**I want you here**_.” Eren babbles as he cums in his own hand, smearing the milky fluid against the front of his underwear that he hasn't bothered to take off while biting at the light colored pillowcase half his face is buried into.

The underlying lament in Eren's voice isn't enough to keep Jean's climax at bay. White dances across his vision and he cums with a soft, stifled grunt, milking himself against his own stomach while panting. They're both quiet, save their taxed breathing which they're both waiting to settle to normal. 

Eren wipes his hand off on his boxers before completely removing them and tossing them somewhere on the floor. He then throws his arm over his face, shielding his eyes. Jean reaches for a box of tissues on a side table near the recliner he's sat in and begins to wipe himself off with an ashamed, bright red expression.

Somehow, neither one of them manages to feel completely satiated after everything is said and done. Eren's longing is still hot and very present within his frame; no amount of imagining would be able to quell it. Jean's almost dizzy with the realization that this wasn't nearly gratifying enough. 

When their breathing evens out again, and they've both got brains to rely on, Eren is the first to speak.

“ _Why didn't I invite you in?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday to my Jean-beau~ http://jeanbeauu.tumblr.com/  
> I love you!! /)//3//(\


	10. Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren gets invited to a party with Jean's friends. 
> 
> Trigger warning for unwanted sexual advances aaaaand violence if anyone needs a heads up?

“Jean!” The dusty blond hears his name as soon as he steps through the doors of the restaurant where he works. Connie's the one beckoning him over while at the same time moving closer. It's strange that he actually looks excited to see Jean, considering they spend a lot of time looking at each other's faces during the week.

“Hey,” Jean starts, but Connie pipes up excitedly.

“I peeped the schedule and I saw that you're off this weekend. Me an' Sash are throwin' a huge party this Saturday. You in?” 

When Jean looks hesitant, Connie is quick to add, “You can bring whoever you want, doesn't matter! The more the merrier!” His excitement seems to be contagious, because out of nowhere Connie's girlfriend appears because she apparently caught the tail end of their conversation, and she's got just as much excitement spread across her features as the shorter man. 

“Jean, please come! It's been so long since we've hung out. Please, please!” Her long brown ponytail is bouncing on the back of her head as she rocks on the balls of her feet waiting for Jean's answer. It's so hard to say no to this girl. Her eyes are big and pleading and it seems like she's holding her breath. Jean glances from her, to Connie, then finally back to her before sighing.

“Yeah, I'll come.” He says, and Sasha cheers and hugs Connie before speeding off to check on a table that she's been waiting on.

“Dude, I am so stoked! We'll talk more later, okay?” Connie grins, slaps Jean's shoulder, and then also makes his way back to a table with a couple people sat at it needing refills.

Jean shakes his head, pulls his phone out of his pocket as he's clocking in to see a couple text messages from Eren that he doesn't bother to reply to. Why did he send a message of a steaming shit icon and nothing else? Ok maybe he should at least acknowledge that. 

**To: Eren**

_Eren, what the fuck._  
_I'm at work stop bothering me._

He then pockets his phone and clocks in before getting to work.

-

It's not until his break that Jean pulls his phone out again some hours later to see Eren apparently having a conversation with himself.

**From: Eren**

_Wat u dont like the poop?_  
_It reminded me of u cause it's poop._  
_Hows work goin? Im bored as helllll._  
_Where do u work? Maybe Ill come visit u_

Jean grins a little at the last message before typing a reply.

**To: Eren**

_If you're gonna visit I'm definitely not telling you where I work._

He pauses for a moment before deciding to add;

_Do you have plans this weekend? My friends are having a party and said I could invite someone._

It only takes about a minute for Jean to get a reply.

**From: Eren**

_Dude rude tell me where u work_  
_Also I work this Fri an Sat morning off Sunday_

**To: Eren**

_Alright. The party is Saturday night. If you're up to it, wanna meet at my place?_

**From: Eren**

_Yeah I'm down_

**To: Eren**

_Great. Just text me the time you're on the way so I can be ready._

**From: Eren**

_Of course princess_

Jean scoffs at the pet name that he apparently can't shake and puts his phone in his pocket while digging in the opposite one for his pack of cigarettes. He takes one out to light it when a bubbly brunette meets his side.

“Jean, I'm so glad you're coming! I can't wait for the weekend. You're bringing someone right?” Sasha looks up at him with big golden brown eyes, and he exhales a cloud of smoke away from her before answering.

“Yeah, I've got a friend,” he says cryptically, but the corners of his mouth are upturned just slightly, and Sasha elbows Jean's ribs gently.

“The person you're texting all the time, right? Can't wait to meet him!”

“Tch, don't just assume things.” He mutters, but doesn't say anything else because she's obviously right.

“What? You're always smiling and texting someone, so Connie and I just kind of thought maybe you met a real hottie or something.” She's looking at him incredulously with her hands on her hips.

Jean takes a long drag from his cigarette while letting it sink in that his friends are a lot more observant than he gives them credit for. 

“He's a friend,” Jean says, and Sasha just shrugs and smiles.

“Well, can't wait to meet your hot friend.” She teases, and Jean shoos her away so he can finish his smoke before having to get back to work. 

“You shouldn't be too stoked about it, he's kind of the worst.” 

“Yeah sure~” She practically sing songs as she turns to leave.

Jean gets details about the party once his shift is over and he has time to talk to Connie. Starts at eight, BYOB and all that. It's not until Jean's driving home that he's hit with the realization that there are going to be a LOT of people there who know him as “Jean and Marco” and not just Jean. He can't remember the last time he's been to one of Sasha and Connie's parties without him. He grips the steering wheel a little too tight, groans and decides he'd actually like very much to change his mind. But he's already invited Eren. And Sasha was so excited...

“ _Ugh._ ” He grunts and leans his forehead against the steering wheel at a red light, mentally cursing at himself for not thinking things through before having made this decision. He's brought back to reality when the person behind him lays hard on their horn because the light's gone green and Jean hasn't budged. He snaps straight and hits the gas in a mild panic, his knuckles shown white on the wheel.

–

Connie and Sasha talk about the party all week. Jean can't shake the feeling of anxiety welling in him every time it's mentioned. They'd all had a lot of mutual friends and acquaintances, so there's no way this party is going to be smooth sailing unless Connie or Sasha think to send a mass text to everyone in their contacts, which is pretty much out of the question, considering. Still, the couple is so animated and enthusiastic about being able to spend time with Jean outside of work that he can't really bring himself to back out.

When Saturday comes, Jean wakes up so anxious that he can't eat. He's slept well into the afternoon since he'd had such a hard time falling asleep the night before. He lays in bed for a long time until he gets a text message. When he taps his phone and the screen shows brightly in his face, he squints at the words.

**From: Eren**

_Hey u got a preference on what I should bring to this shindig 2nite?_

**To: Eren**

_Nothing really in particular. Just get some cheap beer or something. There's gonna be plenty as is._

**From: Eren**

_Alright c u after work_

At least Eren will be there. Jean sighs. _At least Eren will be there._ He keeps telling himself this and strangely enough it manages to keep his anxiety from going any higher. When he finally thinks it for maybe the tenth time, Jean scrubs his hands over his face and grimaces. He wills himself out of bed at last while contemplating just when it was that Eren's presence had become reassuring. He doesn't think on it too long while making his way to the bathroom. He studies his reflection. He doesn't feel like shaving today, so he doesn't. He brushes his teeth and takes a shower so long that his fingertips become pruny, and when he gets out he stands in front of his open closet, contemplating what he should wear like he's trying to impress someone.

He decides at last to just grab a shirt without looking at it and slides his arms into it. He buttons it and then fishes for a pair of jeans after pulling on a pair of underwear. All he owns are these ass grabbing type of pants, but he's having one hell of a time getting these up his thighs, they're so tight. Huffing, he gets them on with a final, rough jerk. He has to adjust himself to get comfortable before finally zipping and buttoning them in place. Fuck, when was the last time he wore these? They don't leave much to the imagination, either. He stands in front of the mirror looking at his own dick through these fucking pants when he stands a certain way and towels his hair dry. The shirt he'd pulled turns out to be a gray and black plaid that sits pretty nicely on his shoulders. 

He studies himself for a long time pretty mindlessly, reaching for a watch with a huge face set in a polished gold to secure it around his slender wrist. It's so big that it makes his wrist look almost delicate, but Jean's got a thing for these watches. They're super expensive and come in this super nice keepsake box with the brand printed in big letters across it. It's been a while since he's taken the time to appreciate these little things. He studies the big blue face and listens to it tick. After a moment, Jean starts to feel a little anxious again so he distracts himself by fussing with his hair. He opens a jar of hair product that he's got sitting atop his dresser and slathers his fingertips in it before combing it through the roots of the lighter part of his hair for this douche-y windblown look that he pulls off better than he should be able to. 

The day gets away from Jean quickly. He fusses with things all day, trying to distract himself. He cleans and vacuums twice, does dishes, plays games on his phone. He can't sit still because if he does for too long he's afraid he'll panic. He forgets to eat. By the time he realizes that his stomach is probably eating itself, he gets a text from Eren saying that he's on his way. 

He grabs a granola bar from the cabinet while he waits. He looks at his phone pretty much every five minutes, wondering what's taking Eren so long like he doesn't live a good half hour away. It's close to nine when Jean jumps after hearing a knock at his front door.

When Jean opens the door, he see's Eren wearing a band t-shirt and a varsity style jacket over it with jeans that for once aren't torn to shit and holding a six pack in one hand. He smiles at Jean in a way that creases his eyes into bright green slits. Jean forgets his anxiety. 

“Hey, sorry I'm kinda late. I meant to be a little earlier, but... I didn't wake up from my nap like planned.” Eren says, still smiling but looking slightly sheepish as he steps inside. “You ready to go?” 

“Uh, yeah. Gimme a second,” Jean says while stepping into a pair of black boots and retrieving his jacket from the dining room chair he'd slung it over the night before.

“You look really hot, by the way.” Eren says, and the back of Jean's neck heats up. “The scruffy look suits you pretty well.”

Jean turns to face Eren while scrubbing a hand along his prickly jawline, and he smiles a bit. “Thanks. I was kinda just being lazy.”

“Lazy looks good on you.” Eren laughs, and he mimics the gesture of running his hand along Jean's jaw. Eren's got this look that Jean can't quite place while he's doing it, looking particularly focused on the bottom half of Jean's face before he pulls himself back and their eyes meet again. 

“Let's get outta here.” The brunet says, and Jean nods before they leave to head to Jean's car.

“So these friends of yours? Are they cool?” Eren asks once they're in the car, glancing over at Jean in the driver's seat with his eyes focused on the road.

“Yeah. Sasha and Connie are good people.” Jean confirms, looking at Eren as he feels fingers in his hair.

“This is cute.” Eren says, and Jean feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end after Eren's nails trail down to the darker, shorter part of his hair. “This style, I mean. I can't do fuck with my hair.”

“It's fine the way it is. I can't imagine you with hair that isn't a mess.” Jean chuckles, and Eren moves his hand away and crosses his arms like he's offended.

“Eat shit. I try but it just does what it wants!”

“It looks fine.” Jean reassures him, the corners of his lips tugging into a slight smile. “It suits you, is what I'm saying.”

“If you think my hair's a mess, you oughta see my dad's. Old dude with a ponytail, man.”

Jean laughs, thankful that Eren's distracting him with conversation, but the closer they get to their destination, the more uppity he's feeling. He's got a low, nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach as they turn into Connie and Sasha's neighborhood. Eren catches the vibe, looking a little concerned.

“You okay?”

“Yeah I'm fine, just,” Jean pauses, readjusts his hands on the wheel. “There's gonna be a lot of people here that I haven't seen in a long time.”

Eren thinks about it for a minute before things start to click and he slumps back in his seat. “We can do something else if you want. I mean it's not really that big of a deal for me.”

“Yeah, but Sasha and Connie were both really looking forward to me coming. I don't want to disappoint them.”

“Mm.” Eren mutters, rubbing his hands across his own thighs. “Okay, well.. just say when and we'll go. I don't mind staying for just an hour or even less. If you want, you can make up an excuse like you're sick or something.”

“Thanks.” Jean smiles, and when he approaches the block where the party is taking place, cars have littered the curbs and driveway, forcing them to park close to the end of the street.

“Damn, looks like they're doin' it up.” Eren mutters once they're out of the car and walking shoulder to shoulder. Once they get to the house, Jean knocks merely as a formality and then lets himself in. The music pumping from the inside is so loud there's no way anyone would have heard it anyway. Connie and Sasha both spot the pair as soon as they enter, and they both whoop and make their way over like he's a friend they haven't seen in ages.

“You came!!” Sasha chimes and hugs him, and Connie is quick to hand him a red cup with something inside that smells sweet. 

“So glad you're here, man. And this is?” He motions toward the brunet at Jean's side, who looks impressed at the amount of people that are packed in this little house.

“Oh, I'm Eren.” He says after being questioned, shakes Connie's hand, and then Sasha's in turn while Connie does introductions.

“I'm Connie. I've known this asshole since high school.” He says while nudging Jean, who's sipping at the drink he's been handed. Some kind of punch that's been spiked with rum. It's actually not bad.

“And this is my girl, Sasha.”

“Nice to meet you, Eren.” She says, chipper and excited as ever. “It's nice to finally put a face to the person that Jean's always so vague about.”

Eren laughs, glancing at Jean who just takes another sip from his cup, and then offers up the six pack that he's brought.

“I didn't really know how big this was gonna be, otherwise I'd have brought more, but-” He says, but Connie looks grateful as he accepts the alcohol.

“Nah man, this is great. Also there's plenty more.”

“Is that Jean?” They hear a voice shout over the bass and suddenly there are like three people on them. A little blond guy with his arm around a cute dark haired girl that Eren learns are Thomas and Mina, and then a taller dude with dark hair and sharp features. Eren catches the name Samuel.

“Jean it's been over a year! How's Marco?” Thomas asks, and when Connie makes a big X with his arms while gritting his teeth, the blond looks confused and then apologetic while Jean explains.

“I wouldn't know. Haven't spoken to him in months.”

There's an awkward pause and Eren rubs the back of his neck because he knows this is probably the very reason Jean didn't want to be here.

“Oh gosh, I'm so sorry..” Thomas mutters with a furrowed brow. “But I mean.. you look amazing. Seems like you're doing really well for yourself, yeah?”

“Yeah, you look totally hot.” Mina pipes in, giggling.

“I guess,” Jean says, and it seems pretty cold and the air is heavy so Eren slaps his back and says;

“Hey, I'm gonna go get some drinks.” When Jean nods his approval and motions that his cup is already empty Eren makes his way through the crowd to find where he can find more of those little cups and the sweet smelling drink inside.

Since things have gotten awkward on Jean's side, Connie's taken to telling some crazy story, all animated with his hands and sound effects to even out the thick air that's formed around them. Everyone is laughing except Jean, who's idly toying with the empty cup in his hand while Samuel leans close to him to talk into his ear where no one else can hear.

“It's good to see you,” he says, and Jean turns to face him so he doesn't have to speak so close.

“Yeah, you too.” Jean replies. He's not sure that he really means it, but it was the polite response, anyway. It's been over a year since he's seen this guy. Seems like his shoulders have gotten a little broader. He's always been taller than Jean, but when he leans in to talk to him, it makes Jean feel small. 

“So, you seeing anyone?” Samuel asks, and Jean thinks he's not had enough to drink to get straight to a conversation like this.

“Not officially, I guess.” He says, watching the dark haired man smile lazily at his response. 

“Cool, cool.” Is all he says, and then Eren is back at Jean's side, having successfully found drinks. He hands Jean another red cup, which he takes and sits inside his empty one and then takes a long chug from it. He could drink this shit all night. It's going down smooth and warm and it's got just the right amount of kick at the end. He doesn't notice Eren giving Samuel a scrutinizing gaze while he downs the beverage.

“Hey,” Eren tries, “Samuel, right?” He's half glaring at the guy, but only because he's standing really close to Jean, too close for Eren's taste.

“Right,” he confirms, grinning, “Don't think I caught who you were though. I've never seen you at one of these parties.”

“Eren.” He says. He immediately doesn't like him. Eren can tell by looking at him that he's the kind of guy that gets what he wants. The way he carries himself, his lazy smile. It's fucking irritating. 

“Yeah? Where you from, Eren?” Samuel asks.

Eren doesn't like the way this guy says his name. He tenses. “Doesn't matter. This guy dragged me here, so.” He motions toward Jean, who's finished his drink and is watching their exchange in silence.

“Oh? Well you should mingle, there are a lot of great people here.” Samuel says, running a hand through his dark hair and taking a sip from the beer he's holding. 

“I think I'm fine right here, thanks.” Eren says, and his tone is a low and defensive one, the calm before the storm, so Jean cuts in. 

“Man, this punch is great. You gonna have some, Eren?”

“Nah, one of us should stay sober for the drive.” He says, his attention immediately broken from the taller dark haired man.

“Good thinking! So that means Jean can enjoy himself!” Samuel says, and Connie's finished telling his story apparently because he appears with a couple beers, passes one to Jean and another to Thomas, and then he's gone again to mingle with the rest of the party goers. 

“You guys enjoy yourselves!” He calls, pushing past a couple people dancing while trying not to spill whatever it is they're drinking.

Thomas and Mina seem like pretty genuine people. They've started up a conversation with Eren, interested in who he is. They're asking how long he's known Jean, and he's asking the same. Ever so often he glances over his shoulder to see Samuel talking with Jean. They're laughing about something. He doesn't care or anything, it's just... he doesn't like that guy. 

After a while they make their way a little further into the party. People who haven't seen Jean in a long time slap him on his back, give him a drink, and ask how Marco's doing. _Where's Marco. What have you and Marco been up to._ It's easier for him to answer with each drink, and he even starts smiling once he's asked. It's not taking long for the drinks he's had to take effect since he hasn't eaten all day. Before he realizes it, they've been here for an hour and Jean is good and drunk but he's laughing and chatting with people and seems to be having a good time so Eren doesn't think about it. If he needs to drink to enjoy himself while he's here, Eren thinks it's alright. He watches Jean amuse himself and chat with the people who have apparently missed him after who knows how long. 

They're socializing at separate ends of the party and the brunet is nursing a soda while hearing some crazy tale about how Connie had once gotten so drunk that he streaked through the neighborhood and passed out in someone's yard back in the day. Guy sounds like a riot, honestly. Eren recalls a drunken story or two of his own, and he's got quite a few people laughing at his antics. When he glances around to check for Jean, he doesn't see him in the same place. 

He sees Jean sat on the couch with that Samuel guy, who's tilting a cup up to Jean's face and Jean is laughing while trying to drink from it. Samuel's free arm is rested on the back of the sofa, but then it drops to wrap around Jean's shoulders to steady him while he laughs and spills a little red down his chin, and in the same moment Eren's heart lodges in his esophagus and he's pissed and making his way toward them without a word.

“Jean.” Eren doesn't even know what he wants to say. The blond looks up at him and grins widely. 

“Heeeeeey.” He slurs, and even while he's standing there, Samuel's _still got his fucking arm around him._

“Havin' a good time?” Samuel asks, and Eren clenches his fists before tugging Jean up from the couch and away from this fuckface. He's holding his wrist tightly, lips pressed into a thin line before he speaks.

“Getting a little handsy, aren't you?” Eren asks, and he's glaring so deeply that the space between his brows has wrinkled with the severity of it.

“Woah woah, settle down there, little guy. I'm not doing anything out of the box over here.”

“ **Don't** fucking call me little. And don't think you can just touch someone however the fuck you like.”

Jean's swaying at Eren's side. He laughs, unable to get a firm grasp on the situation. Eren's mad? He wonders why. His head is spinning and his limbs feel like they're far away.

“Hey, Eren,” he starts, but he's mumbled too low for Eren to hear.

“You're acting pretty jealous for someone that's not even this guy's boyfriend.” Samuel says, and for some reason the statement stabs Eren straight in the chest.

“That's none of your goddamn business, is it?!” He shouts, and a couple people close by have turned to see what the brunet is yelling about. He's slowly but surely creating a scene, but he can't control his temper as every fucking word this guy says wriggles under Eren's skin and chews at what's beneath.

“You're right, it's not. I don't give a damn about your business. I'm just trying to spend time with Jean after not having seen him in so long.” He folds his arms over his chest, looking fucking stupid and smug and completely calm, the exact opposite of Eren.

“I know what you're fuckin' **trying** t'do,” Eren spits at the taller, but then his attention is dragged away as Jean jerks his wrist forcefully from Eren's grip that's gotten a little too tight.

“Eren, fuckin'... knock it off, I was havin' a good time.” He says, and Eren doesn't know what to say. His face goes red as he stands there embarrassed, and Jean flops back down onto the couch next to Samuel.

“Can you jus' get me another drink?” He asks, still not completely processing the exchange between Samuel and Eren as he's barely self aware at this point.

“I think you've had enough, Jean.” Eren mutters.

“I'll get you one,” the taller chimes, and he gets up while shooting Eren a look of self satisfaction. It takes everything in Eren's being not to swing at that guy's smug fucking face. 

“Eren, sit, c'mere, sit right here.” Jean says, patting the space on the sofa at his side opposite to where Samuel had been sitting. Eren thinks about it, but ultimately decides he should probably cool off. 

“Nah, I'm gonna... Go set some water for you and then we should probably go soon.”

“What? We jus' got heeeeere!” Jean whines, “Aren't you havin' a good time?”

“It doesn't matter whether or not I'm having a good time,” Eren decides, and Jean is just looking at him stupidly. Samuel returns and hands Jean a new drink before sitting too close to him for Eren's comfort yet again. He decides at that moment to walk away because he doesn't want to create another scene at this party full of people he doesn't even fucking know.

“I'm gonna go get you some water and then we're leaving,” He says, but Jean doesn't acknowledge him as he chugs the drink he's been given. Jean doesn't even know what it is, just that it tastes like shit and sits in the pit of his belly with a warm weight that keeps him dizzy and blissfully unaware.

Eren sighs, attempting to make his way through bodies to get to the kitchen when he's stopped by a couple strangers he hasn't met yet. He gets caught up in awkward conversation, as they've both got pretty good buzzes going, but the whole “Whoa I've never seen you before how could I have missed you? You're pretty hot,” kind of compliments have got his cheeks burning while in the back of his mind he's fussing over Jean.

The blond is doing well enough, though. Samuel is being charming and funny and he keeps giving him drinks so he feels really good.

“Man I godda piss.” Jean says, and he somehow manages to pull himself up and stumbles slightly.

“Need help? The bathroom's upstairs.” 

“I know where th' fuckin' bathroom is.” Jean says, laughs as he stumbles again, then places a hand on his forehead while grinning. Samuel is quick to raise himself and get an arm around Jean's waist.

“Okay maybe I need... like a lil bit of help up th' stairs.” He says, so Samuel is walking with him toward the stairs, and gets a glance from Sasha who notices them and looks rather confused.

“He needs a bathroom, I'm just helping him up the stairs.” He says, and she nods and smiles and gives him a thumbs up before going back to the conversation she was having with a couple other girls.

Its takes a bit of time, but they make it up the staircase with Jean a laughing mess. Samuel opens a door that even drunk Jean realizes is a bedroom and not a bathroom, and looks at him like he's stupid.

“This ain't the bathroom, moron.” He says, and Samuel chuckles.

“No, this is the master bedroom. But there's a bathroom in here. There, in the corner. Go.” He motions to a door standing slightly ajar to the right of the bed.

“Oh, okay.” Jean says without thinking about it. He hears the bedroom door click shut behind them while making his way to the bathroom. Swaying, he manages to do his business. When he comes out of the bathroom his fly isn't zipped and his pants are unbuttoned but at least they're up. When he looks up, the way Samuel is looking at him makes him uneasy. 

“Isn't this Connie an' Sasha's room...? We shouldn't be in here.” Jean notes, planting a hand on the closest piece of furniture, an oak dresser, to steady himself.

“Nah, it's fine. The other bathroom was occupied.” Samuel lies, but Jean buys it because he doesn't know any better. His head is light. It feels like his brain weighs nothing as he tries to right himself without leaning against the dresser, but instead stumbles and lands flat on his ass next to the bed. Samuel is on him in no time, helping him up effortlessly and propping him on the edge of the mattress. 

“Oh, thanks...” Jean slurs after he's been helped, holding his face in one hand and deciding maybe Eren had been right about having enough to drink. He chuckles after realizing Samuel is asking him something, but not really hearing it.

“Jus' give me a secon' I wanna close my eyes. Eren's bringin' water..” He trails off, pulls his legs onto the bed and lays with both arms strewn over his face. He feels the gentle, rocking warmth of drunkenness lulling him to a half-conscious stupor. He doesn't realize if he's actually dozed off, but when he opens his eyes again behind his arms, he feels a weight planted on the edge of the bed, and another on his opposite side. Someone leaning over him with their hand supporting their own weight at his hip. 

“Mm..” he groans softly, thinking Eren's returned and brought him a glass of water but gotten distracted. He slowly registers fingertips at the buttons on his shirt, undoing them, baring his chest. Jean laughs, clutches the other man's shoulder and playfully pushes. He's about to protest when a hot mouth devours one of his nipples sloppily, and arches with a moan into the tingling sensation that shoots across his skin.

“Eren,” Jean moans, tangling his fingers into the other man's hair and looking down at the head working on his chest. Even drunk he realizes the hair is too dark, too smoothly laid in place. Jean gasps with a mixture of realization and pleasure that he should be ashamed of while tugging at the hair his fingers are tangled in to pull the other man away from his chest.

“Nh-.. Not Eren..” Jean mumbles, but the mouth on his chest is persistent and it feels good so Jean's fingers are weak as they pull at Samuel's hair.

“Don'... Don' do that,” He says weakly, breathlessly, while turning onto his side and away from the dark haired man.

“Hn? Why not?” Samuel asks, and his voice is soft and sensual, “It feels good, doesn't it? Look how hard your nipples are.”

Jean looks down at his own chest and laughs while throwing an arm back over his face.

“Yeah, it feels kinda good, but-” 

“You're the one that came out of the bathroom with your pants undone.” Samuel chuckles against Jean's neck, and he tilts his face away from the warmth of his breath.

“Hn? I didn' realize..” Jean mutters, and Samuel chuckles again.

“You're a fuckin' tease, aren't you?” Samuel says thickly against Jean's ear, and the blond grunts and tries to move away but he's so dizzy he's not sure which way he wants to go.

“Jus' real hammered,” Jean reassures the taller man, and he pushes himself up on his elbows to try to get a better grasp on the situation, but then Samuel has his hands on Jean's shoulders and guides him to lay back down.

“It's alright, I'll take good care of you.” He says, and Jean is processing things far too slowly as he lays back against the pillows and sighs softly. Samuel's lips are on Jean's neck and trailing down his chest. The blond arches and whines, rubbing at both eyes with his palms. _It doesn't feel right._

“Where's Eren?” He asks, and Samuel shushes him gently while palming at his dick. Jean bites the inside of his cheek and shifts to try to get away from Samuel's hand, feeling irritated and dirty.

“Let go,” he says softly. It doesn't feel good. _It doesn't feel right._ Where's Eren? There's an anxious feeling at the pit of his stomach, and then he feels his body reacting to Samuel's touch and he bites back a moan of irritation. 

“Eren's bringin' me water...” he repeats, feeling ashamed for thinking about Eren while someone else is making his cock hard. But it's not because it's Samuel; his body is merely reacting to the warmth and pressure applied to it, not to mention the alcohol. He squirms, pushes at the taller man's shoulders with more force than he'd been able to muster prior, and breathes out shakily. 

“Forget about him, he's probably havin' fun downstairs.” Samuel says against Jean's skin, but it doesn't sate him. “You could be havin' fun too.”

“No, this...” Jean starts, “This ain't... I don' wanna do this.” He says, and then Samuel closes the space between them with a hot, sloppy, open mouthed kiss. 

Downstairs, Eren doesn't know how much of his time these strangers have taken up when he manages to get away. He's having a little dilemma in the kitchen with himself as he fills a cup with ice and water and then makes his way back into the living room where Jean is nowhere to be seen. On instinct, he looks around for that fuckface Samuel, too. Eren's doesn't spot him, either. Maybe he went outside for a smoke? 

“Hey, what's goin' on?” Connie claps Eren's shoulder after noting the slightly bewildered look on his face.

“Not much. Have you seen Jean around?” The brunet asks, giving the place another once-over before meeting Connie's gaze.

“Mm.. Last I saw he was in the living room.” Connie follows the line of Eren's gaze, squints, and then spots his girlfriend to motion her over. She excuses herself from the loudly chatting circle of girls and heads over. 

“What's up?” She asks, bumping shoulders with Connie.

“You seen Jean?” He asks, and Eren is looking at her expectantly, like she just has to know where he is.

“Yeah, Samuel took his drunk little butt upstairs to use the bathroom.” Sasha says, and Eren feels a sense of relief before she takes out her phone and adds, “But that was maybe something like... Fifteen minutes ago? That's when I saw him last.”

Eren's heart drops into his guts and the color drains from his face. He hopes that Jean's drunk ass is just taking one really long shit as he turns wordlessly to head upstairs, dropping off the cup of water he'd been holding somewhere along the way. He doesn't know which one is the bathroom, but it didn't fucking matter.

“Yo, wait-” Connie starts after seeing the change in Eren's features and follows behind him, and Sasha is close behind after that.

“What's wrong, dude?” Connie calls after him, and it feels like shit has gotten serious because he can see the tension in Eren's back, like a rubber band pulled taught and ready to snap at any given moment. Eren's opening doors while ignoring the voice behind him. A closet, an empty bathroom, and then a door that won't open.

“Fucking **kidding** me?” Eren hisses to himself, and Connie is at his side, trying the doorknob and furrowing his brow.

“What the fuck, why is our bedroom door locked?” Connie says, wriggles it again, and then pounds on the door.

“Hey, whatever asshole is in there, you know my fucking room is off limits during parties!” 

“Move.” Sasha says, bumping both Connie and Eren out of the way with her hip while pulling a bobby pin from her hair and sticking it in the lock. When Connie gives her a look of disbelief, she smiles.

“What? Like I wouldn't know how to unlock my own bedroom door? Give me a break.” She rolls her eyes playfully, wriggles it inside the doorknob, and succeeds in getting the door open. 

Eren's stomach is doing flips. When the door opens he sees Jean laying there on the bed. His clothes are disheveled, his shirt laying open and his pants undone. Jean's pushing at Samuel's shoulders and he hears him say softly, desperately, “Stop it... I don't want to...” But the taller man has him pinned there and Jean can't get the leverage to get away. Jean's trying to curl up, away from the other man's hands and mouth, which are working on Jean's groin and neck respectively. Samuel's so fucking enraptured with Jean that he hasn't even noticed the door opened behind them.

Eren sees red. Something inside his brain snaps and he doesn't know who the fuck he is.

His fist lands hard and solid at Samuel's jaw, and it sends him onto the floor with a pained grunt. Before the taller can realize what's happened, Eren's straddling the guy's waist and laying into him, hitting wherever his fists want to land. His chin, his eye, his nose. Samuel manages one good hit to Eren's mouth in defense, splitting his bottom lip. It only fuels Eren's anger. He hits harder, feels satisfied when he feels a sick crunch against his knuckles and wet blood that isn't his smear across his fingers. Another hit lands to Eren's nose. Blood oozes from both his nostrils but he doesn't feel any pain. His rage is fueled with adrenaline and jealousy and all things ugly in a person. _The want for someone else to fucking suffer._

“Holy Christ, that's enough dude!” Connie says, and he's surprisingly strong for a shorter fella. He wraps both arms around Eren's chest from behind him and pulls him up and away from Samuel, who's panting and bleeding from his mouth and nose while groaning in pain. He's got a nice split on his eyebrow where Eren managed a good hit, the spot already beginning to bruise and swell. Eren struggles in Connie's grip, tries to lunge at Samuel again, but his grip is firm, tight. Eren can't move. He spits a mixture of saliva and blood onto the man laid out on the floor, and Connie squeezes him tightly from behind to try to calm him down, to let him know it's over. You've won. Breathe.

“You disgusting piece of shit I'll fucking **kill** you!” Eren shouts breathlessly as Samuel rights himself with a moan of pain, wiping at the blood dripping down his jaw. “Didn't you fucking hear him telling you to **stop**?!”

“Are you fucking **nuts** you psychotic bastard?! _You broke my fucking nose!!_ ” Samuel says, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “And he can't tell me to stop while his cock is hard in my hand.” 

Eren growls, low and feral, his vision blurring. He lurches suddenly and with enough speed and new found strength that he over powers Connie for a second and he's able to land another solid hit at Samuel's mouth, splitting his lip a second time. The pained cry he elicits from that hit is hardly enough to make Eren feel any sense of satisfaction. He gets both hands around Samuel's throat and squeezes in an instant, and the taller chokes out a breath, clawing at Eren's hands with blunt nails as he's robbed of the ability to breathe. 

_“You slimy piece of dog shit! Fucking stupid bitch! I'll fucking kill you! I'll rip your goddamn **face** off, mother fucker!”_ Eren screams, and Connie tenses up, securing his grip around Eren and heaving him away from Samuel. His hands slide away from the taller man's neck, his fingernails leaving burning, bleeding welts in their wake while he coughs roughly and tries to get his breath back, fat tears squeezing from the corners of his eyes.

Connie turns toward his girlfriend who's watched this all transpire with shock splayed across her features. When he turns, he physically lifts Eren up as he goes to get him away from the taller man. He feels Eren's chest heaving against the firm grip he's got around him. 

“Get him out of here. He either needs to go to the hospital or go home, but he can't stay here.” Connie says to her while tilting his head in Samuel's direction, not planning on letting go of Eren until Samuel is out of the room, out of the house, even. Eren's like a feral animal, wriggling and lashing out and wanting nothing more than to tear out the other guy's throat. Connie doesn't doubt he'll actually do it, too. Sasha nods and moves toward them, but the dark haired man pulls himself up with a scoff and waves a blood covered hand.

“I can fuckin' let myself out,” he says, holding his forearm across his face as he gets up to stumble out of the room and back downstairs, his words slurred by swollen lips and his voice rough from having his throat squeezed and breath taken from him.

Eren is panting in Connie's grip, watching the other man leave and still wanting more blood, unsatisfied. Slowly he comes back to himself, and his lip burns, and his nose fucking hurts like hell, but it's not broken. He tastes blood. There's skin beneath his fingernails. His knuckles and backs of his hands are lazily dripping blood from the burning scratches left there by blunt nails. He still feels Samuel's throat against his palms, wishing he'd squeezed a little harder. But he's gone now. His breathing evens out.

When Connie feels Eren loosen a bit, he unwinds his arms from around him and pats his shoulder.

“You okay, man?” He asks, and Eren nods, smearing blood across the sleeve of his jacket as he wipes at his nose.

“I'm sorry,” Eren says, feeling frustrated and embarrassed all at once. His throat feels tight. Fuck. 

“I'm really sorry. I'm gonna take Jean home. Thanks for having me.” He turns away and wills his voice not to shake because fuck dammit he's a frustrated crier. He feels tears well in his eyes and he swallows hard in attempts to loosen his throat but it doesn't work. 

“Uh... Yeah. Any time.” Connie says, rubbing the back of his head and looking at Sasha sheepishly. She bites her bottom lip.

Eren goes over to the bed where Jean is still laying, propped up on one elbow. He'd watched the entire scene in a silent stupor with eyes half lidded. He didn't react beyond that.

“Jean, gimme your keys.” Eren says, and Jean fishes them out of his back pocket and hands them over. He sits up, face flushed, and Eren begins to button his shirt. Connie and Sasha watch in silence as Eren helps Jean to his feet, who promptly pushes away without making eye contact with anyone in the room.

“I can stand by myself.” He says, and he's not slurring as much anymore but he still sways and stumbles out of the room to the staircase. Eren is close behind, his lips pressed into a thin line. It hurts, but the pain is keeping him from crying.

“Drive safe. And take good care of him.” Sasha offers after Eren, and he nods and follows Jean down the stairs and out the door. He's stumbling stupidly all over the place. It's a miracle in itself that Jean remembers where they'd parked. Eren keeps a safe distance. Close enough that he can swoop in if Jean falls, far enough away that Jean can't push at him if he feels the need.

When Jean gets to the car he jerks open the door forcefully and deposits himself into the passenger seat. He slams the door shut. Eren gets in the driver's side, sticks the key in the ignition but doesn't turn the car over.

“I'm sorry, I should have stayed closer to you.” Eren says, and Jean laughs bitterly.

“What? What are you now, my fucking babysitter? I can't get drunk at a friend's party?”

“No, you fucking asshole. That fuckface was taking advantage of you because you're fucking _trashed_. I should have just kept a better eye out.” Eren's heart is still pounding from before, but now it's starting to hurt. Like tiny little parasites inside him are stabbing at his guts and heart, prying them away from where they're supposed to be situated inside his body.

“I can handle myself.” Jean argues, and Eren takes in a deep breath like he can't believe what he's just heard.

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me? He was ten seconds from fucking you. You could barely put up a fight you're so fucking wasted!”

“Fuck you,” Jean hisses, “You didn't have to make such a fucking scene at my best friend's party.” Jean isn't even actually mad. Eren's right, and he's a little irritated by this. But that doesn't stop him from spewing verbal diarrhea while his head is swimming and he's embarrassed that he was too drunk to fend off Samuel's advances.

“Jean, are you serious right now? I ca-”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, anyway? _You're not my fucking boyfriend, Eren._ ” He feels like shit as soon as he says it.

Eren stops. He looks at Jean wide eyed and silent. His throat goes tight again. Hearing that shit from a stranger was one thing. Hearing it from Jean shatters him inside. 

“Yeah well, maybe I fucking **want** to be!” Eren hears himself say in that strained tone, biting back tears of frustration. Jean's heart skips a beat. “What the fuck am I to you?” Eren wants to lash out at something, anything. He slams both palms against the steering wheel before taking it in a vice grip, cracking the dried blood on his knuckles so fresh red blooms against the surface. He feels embarrassed and stupid and pathetic. 

It's Jean's turn to go silent now. Suddenly feeling a lot more sober than before, he slumps into the passenger seat. Neither one of them say anything for a while. Jean listens to Eren's trembling breathing as he forces back the frustrated sobs that have got his throat closed up tightly. He's doing well to keep them at bay. Jean knows how fucking shitty and selfish it is that he wants Eren to kiss him right now. Another long moment passes before the brunet finally speaks and his breathing has evened out.

“Put on your seat belt.” Eren says after securing his own in a tone still taxed with the efforts of trying not to cry. He turns the key in the ignition and the engine rumbles to life. Jean does as he's told without protest, leans his forehead against the cool surface of the window and closes his eyes. 

It seems like minutes have passed when Eren jostles Jean back to consciousness, feels like he'd only had his eyes closed for a short time. When he looks outside and notes the familiar parking lot, Jean unfastens his seat belt and gets out of the car. His head spins when he stands and he wobbles. Closing the car door behind him, he leans both palms against the window and tries to get his bearings. 

“Come on.” Eren says, and Jean feels an arm around his waist keeping him steady while Eren pulls one of Jean's arms across his shoulders. Jean grips where his hand lands, fisting against Eren's jacket. The shorter leads them to Jean's apartment, unlocks the door, takes Jean to his bedroom.

“Get ready for bed.” Eren says and leaves the room. Jean kicks off his boots, peels off his jacket, and begins with clumsy fingers to unbutton his shirt. He's struggling with only the third button when Eren returns with a glass of ice water and hands it to him.

“Drink this.” Is all he says, and Jean does, gulping the entire glass down in one go and pulling back from it with a refreshed gasp. He sets the glass down on his nightstand with a soft clink of ice, looks at Eren, who looks back, but says nothing.

“Did you mean what you said in the car?” Jean asks, his cheeks still bright from intoxication and his head an air balloon.

“I'm not having this conversation with you while you're drunk.” Eren says, and Jean gets a far away look as he mindlessly sets to fumbling with the buttons on his shirt again, but his fingers can't figure out how they work. Eren sighs after watching him struggle, moves closer and unbuttons his shirt to help him out of it. Once the shirt is gone, Jean lays back against the pillows of his unmade bed and closes his eyes.

“So you will in the morning then?” Jean asks, and Eren's shoulders slump forward.

“I'm going home.”

Jean sits up straight and too fast, because he feels like his head is about to roll off his shoulders.

“No, stay.” He says, and Eren looks at him with disbelief.

“I don't fucking get you.” He says, “You were talking to me before like you didn't want me around, and now you want me to fucking stay the night with you? Make up your goddamn mind.” Jean studies Eren, notes the blood drying below his nostrils, the bruise forming on his bottom lip. He's got enough wits about him now to know what he wants. 

“I just did.” Jean says, softer than before, and peels his eyes away from the shorter man. 

Eren stands there silently. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. 

“Wash your face.” Jean says, rolls over and pulls the blankets up to his chin. 

Eren can't decide whether it's a good idea or not to stay. He thinks about it as he makes his way to the bathroom, takes off his jacket and turns on the sink to set to scrubbing at the dried blood smeared across the right sleeve. He gets most of it out. He then studies himself in the mirror and winces. His bottom lip is swollen and scabbed over, he picks lightly at the excess of crunchy dried blood around his mouth and nose, which has bruised nicely, before splashing warm water on his face. It hurts everywhere that he touches, but he feels a sense of satisfaction as he recalls the state he'd left the other guy's face in. He cups water in one hand to scoop it into his mouth and gargles. When he spits, the water lands in the sink pink and washes down the drain quickly. He then sets to washing the scratches on the back of his hands, gritting his teeth as he picks ripped skin from the wounds. 

“Mother fucker...” He hisses, turning the water to cold and just letting it run over his hands with a contented sigh. After a few minutes of letting the cold wash over his hands, he finds a hand towel hanging on a hook on the wall opposite the sink, and pats his face dry gingerly. He hears Jean from the next room, tired and frustrated in a long drawn out growl.

“Ereeeen.”

The brunet appears in the doorway with a huff, wiping excess water from his hands on the thighs of his jeans. He feels embarrassed about everything. The scene he'd caused. Blurting out stupid shit in the car. He wants to go home and be alone and have a nice long frustrated cry. But for some reason, he can't. He just can't when Jean is asking him to stay.

“I'm here.” He says softly from the doorway, almost too low for Jean to hear, but he catches it. He's got his back to the doorway and doesn't roll over to respond. 

“Come 'ere.” He says tiredly, without moving.

Eren gets undressed, strips down to just his t-shirt and underwear and crawls into bed next to Jean. The blond doesn't open his eyes, but puts an arm around Eren's waist to pull him closer. Asshole stinks of booze.

“It wasn't right.” He mumbles, and Eren makes a questioning sound in his throat, wondering if Jean's talking in his sleep.

“I was tryin' to push him off. It didn't feel right.” He says, and Eren scoffs softly.

“Why not? You don't have a boyfriend, so why did it feel any different from anyone else you've fooled around with?” Eren's tone sounds bitter, and he's stiff in Jean's embrace.

“Cause it wasn't you.” Jean mutters sleepily, secures his arm around Eren a little tighter, and Eren's face and ears flare the brightest red.

This honest Jean catches Eren off guard. He doesn't know how to react. His heart pounds as he relaxes and nestles a little closer.

“Go to sleep, Jean,” he whispers, waiting for Jean's breathing to even out into a slow, steady pace, knowing he's finally knocked out once the grip at his waist goes lax. Eren buries his face into Jean's neck, feeling defeated, exhausted, emotionally drained, and still very, very frustrated. But he's the one that went home with Jean. He's the one nestled in Jean's bed, listening to Jean's heartbeat and feeling his breath against his hair. He should feel happy, and yet the frustration won't abate. His brow furrows as he presses his face flush to Jean's neck and lets the tears he fought in the car well behind his eyelids and dribble lazily from the corners of his eyes.

All of this is so fucking new to Eren. He's never fucking cared enough to feel jealous over someone. He's never let himself get attached enough to offer a single shit. And he's certainly never almost choked someone to death over another person. Things were so different with Jean. He actually fucking cared. He wants and desires everything that Jean is and he wants Jean to feel the same. He can't place any of his feelings right now, just that he wants. He wants everything and why won't Jean give it to him?

“I hate you,” he lies against Jean's skin, face flushed and pained and wet with tears. “I fucking _hate_ you, dumbass,” he repeats, tangling their legs and wrapping his arms around wherever he can reach. Jean sleeps through Eren's quiet fit, thankfully. After a moment, Eren settles down, sniffs with a pained groan because fuck his nose hurts, and begins to drift off to sleep since he's tuckered himself out. He loses consciousness smelling Jean's skin, lulled by his warmth, and comforted by the weight of Jean's arm around his waist.


	11. Official

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean opens up to Eren, and Eren agrees to take on Jean's wounds. Can he heal them, though?  
> Or maybe he's already begun to without either of them realizing it.

Eren is roused from his sleep by a sharp pain somewhere in his skull. It throbs, dully at first, and then harder and harder until he's conscious. He realizes his face hurts worse than the night before. His limbs are tangled with ones longer than his own, and it takes a bit of effort to pull himself from the dead weight at his back. He touches the bridge of his nose gingerly, hisses, and gets out of bed. Looking over his shoulder, Jean is still sleeping hard, having not been stirred in the slightest by Eren's lack of presence. 

The brunet makes his way to the bathroom where he takes a nice long piss and then goes to survey the damage to his face in the mirror. There's a big black and purple bruise decorating the bridge of his nose. His bottom lip isn't swollen anymore, but it's nice and shiny and matches the hues in the middle of his face. There's a wide scab near the corner of his mouth, and when he runs his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip, he feels cuts where his teeth had bitten into skin with the impact of the punch he'd gotten there. 

All in all, he looks like a fucking mess.

He reaches for the side of the mirror to pull it back from the medicine cabinet that's set into the wall, praying to whatever higher power that exists that there's some kind of pain killer behind it. He searches through old expired prescriptions, stomach medicine, and then the angels from heaven above sing a high chorus and naked cherubs play trumpets as he finds a bottle of extra strength migraine formula. Bless.

Eren takes three of them without reading the precautions on the side of the bottle because fuck that, he needs this ache in his skull to go away as quickly as possible. Recommended dose of two tablets? That was only a suggestion. He wants a shower. A shower sounds divine right now. He barely thinks about it before leaning to turn the shower on and shedding his clothes. When he steps beneath the hot water, he groans appreciatively, letting it pelt his face gently and soothe some of the soreness from his skin. His mind blanks, which he's pretty thankful for. He doesn't want to recall anything from the night before. 

Eren stays in the shower for a long time, washing with soaps and scrubs that he's unfamiliar with, but none of them smell bad so it's not that serious. He steps out of the shower feeling relieved. He tracks wet footprints along the carpet on his way to search for a towel. After having found the linen closet and toweling himself dry, he makes for the bedroom where he pulls open the top dresser drawer like he owns the place. Looks like the top drawer is underwear. Second drawer is shirts. Good. He grabs the first one he sees and pulls it down over his head, only noticing there were buttons on it afterward. What is this thing, a fucking nightgown? There's no way this even fits Jean properly, their size wasn't really too terribly different. The sleeves are a little long, but the shirt itself is made long on purpose. It hits Eren about mid thigh, but at least it's comfortable. He can't complain much. 

Eren shuts the dresser drawer quietly when he hears Jean stir on the bed behind him. He hears a sigh, knowing he's awake, and then a soft groan of discomfort.

“Fuck,” Jean moans, sounding every bit as shitty as he feels. His mouth feels like he'd slept with cotton balls in it, tastes like he'd been drinking piss, and his head is throbbing. On top of all that, slowly but surely, guilt is rising from the pit of his stomach as he recalls the previous night. He gropes around through the covers and finds Eren gone. Of course he's fucking gone. Why would he have stayed? After he'd been such a fucking prick. Jean groans again as pain shoots from the back of his eyes, through his brain and down his neck. He needs a fucking pain killer, stat. Briefly he thinks of the bottle of pills in the top drawer of his nightstand. Not a pain killer, but it'd make him forget he was hurting. He sits up, pulling the covers from his body, and holds his head in his hands while contemplating that he'd probably destroyed the one good thing that had happened to him since Marco. His heart begins to race as he panics.

Pulling back from his hands, Jean surveys the room. When his eyes meet with Eren's, he freezes. His heart stops. It's like he's seen a ghost, like he can't believe he's there. 

“Hey.” Eren says first, breaking the silence. He closes his eyes as he begins to towel at his hair. “You look like shit.” His lip throbs when it tries to form vowels.

“Eren,” Jean sighs his name in a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and his mouth twists up into this pained smile because he doesn't deserve for Eren to be here right now. Jean tries to run a hand through his tangled hair but hardly succeeds. 

“Eren, listen,” Jean begins, but Eren cuts him off and turns his back to him to gaze at his own reflection in the mirror atop the dresser.

“Go take a shower and clean yourself up, then we can talk.” Eren says, and Jean gets up. He studies Eren's reflection and the damage to his face. He wants to apologize. He wants to explain himself. He wants to be forgiven for the piece of shit that he is, but no words come. Their eyes meet in the mirror, and Jean leaves the room without saying anything.

Eren crawls back into bed, his stomach turning because he doesn't know what Jean is gonna say, or what he himself is gonna say, or what's going to happen from here. He's never felt so anxious in his life. Seems like it takes an hour for Jean to return, having showered and brushed his teeth so he's not such a damn mess. Jean spent most of his shower rehearsing an apology, but once he sees Eren sitting in his bed, with those big green eyes looking directly into his own, he's forgotten everything that he'd planned. Eren's eyes do to Jean's insides the exact same thing his fists had done to Samuel's face the night prior, and Jean nearly recoils. Silently and quickly he throws on some clothes, an old t-shirt, underwear, and sweatpants, and then takes a seat on the edge of the bed with his towel around his shoulders. He taps his fingers against his own thighs in a nervous tick. Where should he even begin?

“You know I didn't mean that shit I said last night, right?” Jean tries, and Eren chuckles grimly. The sound makes Jean's heart throb painfully.

“What do you mean? Are you talking about the comment about me not being your boyfriend? Because that's true. I'm not.” Eren draws his knees to his chest, pulling the oversized shirt down past them. He's wearing a bitter smile that Jean learns in a matter of mere seconds to hate.

“That's not the point. It was shitty, I shouldn't have said it.” Jean bites his bottom lip, searches his brain for what he wants to say next. He can't collect his thoughts. He can't tell if he's angry or wants to cry, just that he's so fucking frustrated with himself.

“I was fucking embarrassed. And sloppy shit faced drunk, and I was just lashing out because I felt fucking pathetic.” He says, and he's looking at Eren with a desperate expression, almost panicked. “When I saw your fucking face... The face you made after...” He pauses, drops his gaze, and wills his voice to remain steady while he speaks.

“You looked so genuinely hurt.”

“I fucking was!” Eren cuts in quickly, his brow creased into an angry expression. “It still bothers me, dammit. I didn't want to hear that shit from you.”

“ _Eren_.”

“What?”

“I-...” Jean can't seem to find words. He sputters, his head throbs, and he holds his face in his palm where he breathes out a sigh before speaking again.

“I'm so fucking sorry.” He manages, pulling himself up on the mattress and closer to the brunet. “If I can help it, I never want to be the cause of an expression like that again. Not-... Not if it's you.”

Eren's heart is racing, he looks at Jean as he moves closer.

“Why does it matter if it's me? What's so damn special about **me**?” He says while glaring at the taller.

“Everything.” Jean says, and there's no hesitation in his voice. He can't think anymore. Eren's gaze has got him feeling vulnerable and stripped to his core. He says the first things that come to mind because they're the most honest. Jean feels weak, so fucking weak beneath Eren's gaze. 

“That's stupid.” Eren says, and he looks away again, but his features soften. He tenses as he feels Jean take one of his hands in his own. His first reaction is to pull it back, away from Jean's grip, but the blond's hold is firm. 

“I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. You didn't deserve any of that shit.” Jean says, and his throat is tight as he speaks, but he swallows and continues. He feels like he owes Eren so much more than an apology.

“All up to this point, I've been doing drugs and partying every chance that I got, just so I could forget the shitty person that I am and the things I'd lost. I put myself in so many fucked up situations because I felt so goddamn empty. I'm such a weak piece of shit. But then you-” Jean pauses, his lips hovering over one of Eren's scabbed over knuckles like he'd like to press them to the abused flesh, but he doesn't. Eren remains tense, but he grips Jean's hand.

“Ever since we started seeing each other all the time, I realized-” Jean pauses, swallows again to try to loosen his throat. He's having some kind of fucking epiphany or some shit, because he's never thought twice about these things. Eren is here now, but there's a very real chance that he won't be tomorrow or for any day thereafter. He'd never thought about missing Eren, but he realizes now, with Eren sitting here angry and hurt solely because of Jean, that he'd miss him. He'd miss his voice and the way he smiles and how his ears turn red before his cheeks when he's embarrassed. He'd miss the way Eren makes him feel like a real fucking human being and not some ghostly sack of shit just trying to fill up time with a warm body and brain so high he's not sure who he is. He'd miss the way his lips move around words and how they taste against his own, and he'd miss the way his heart races when Eren is on his mind and maybe he should be saying all this out loud, but his throat is so fucking tight that it feels like it's twisted up. Jean tries clearing his throat, sounding pathetic. 

“Eren..You make me forget all the shit I hate about myself.” He's chewing on his bottom lip with a furrowed brow, red spread across his cheeks and ears. Eren can see that Jean's trying his damnedest not to cry. It's made even more apparent when he breathes out and speaks again.

“I don't want to lose that. _I can't fucking lose that_ ,” his voice wavers now, and Eren takes a deep breath because this is the first time he's seen Jean emotional like this. Tears begin to streak the blond's face, and he keeps any little cries deep in his chest and doesn't let them escape, but the effort of bating them is making Jean's entire body tremble where he's knelt at Eren's side.

“Jean.” Eren says, and it's gentle, more gentle than Jean thinks he deserves.

“God dammit I just wish I could take it back,” Jean says, his sentence punctuated with a sob that he couldn't quite keep at bay. He bows his head against Eren's hand, pressing his forehead to it to keep his face hidden because he feels so fucking stupid and ashamed.

Jean's forehead is burning up against the cool, bruised and battered skin of Eren's knuckles. Eren watches quietly as Jean cries, knowing that he really means everything he's saying because Jean's never shown himself so vulnerable, hardly shown Eren a moment of weakness. Even in times of surrender, Jean still seemed so sure. But now, knelt on his own bed trembling and crying and too ashamed to look Eren in the eye, Eren can't help but want to comfort him.

“Look at me.” Eren says firmly, and Jean raises his head with furrowed brows and flushed, wet cheeks. His eyes are puffy and his bottom lip has begun to swell where he's bitten into it.

“You're so fucking stupid.” Eren says, and Jean sniffs and nods like he agrees. Eren pulls his hand from Jean's grip to smooth both of them along Jean's face, feeling his prickly jawline as they slide to grip the back of his head and move him so his head is laying in Eren's lap. Jean lays on his side, relishing the warmth of Eren's body. He closes his eyes briefly before looking back up at him.

“I'm not going anywhere. So don't cry anymore.” Eren says softly, and it only makes fresh tears spring to those puffy hazel eyes. Eren's fingers still in Jean's hair, the blond turns to press his face into one of Eren's palms while gritting his teeth and fighting the new tears. He doesn't deserve this.

“I'm sorry that I went nuts last night.” Eren says, and hearing him apologize makes Jean nauseous.

“Don't.” Jean says quickly, wiping his arm across his face. “You don't get to apologize for anything you did, because you didn't do anything wrong.”

“Dude, I beat the shit out of some guy while at a party with people I'd only ever met that day.” Eren argues, feeling embarrassed all over again.

“I think Connie would have hit him, too, if he had found me like that. He probably wanted to, but... You got the job done pretty well.” Jean says, sounding stuffy but he's appeared to have stopped crying at least. Eren does this quiet little laugh.

“Fuckface was askin' for it.” He says, caressing down Jean's jaw, feeling the scratchiness of his stubble and then tracing the contours of the shapes in his ear. “When I heard you telling him to stop, I went fucking ballistic. Seeing his mouth on you, his hands on you. Even though it's not true, I got this sense of like- who the fuck does this asshole think he is? Touching what belongs to me. And I just.. I couldn't control it. I fuckin' lost my shit seeing you like that.” Eren bends to press their foreheads together, Jean's so warm against his own.

“Eren,” Jean's voice wavers. He closes his eyes feeling Eren's breath in his hair and thinks for the millionth time he doesn't deserve this.

“So..” Eren says, pulling back from Jean's forehead to get a better look at his face. “What now?” He's anxious to hear the answer. 

“I-...” Jean starts, searching for words. He knows what he wants, but how does he put words to it?

Eren reaches down inside himself and manages to find a little bit of courage while Jean struggles. “We can do this, if you want. I'm willing to take you on, and your baggage, and your wounds and all that shit. But I need you to be level with me, Jean.” He's looking him straight in the face. Serious. Determined. There's something in his eyes that makes Jean hold his breath. “If you're going to be like this, then I'll stay. If you cry when you feel like crying. If you tell me what's bothering you. If you _talk_ to me. If you're fucking open with me, then... Then I'll be with you, Jean.”

“Yeah,” is all Jean manages in a soft breath because he's having a hard time processing that Eren's willing to give him this chance. He's quiet. It's not good enough for Eren.

“Yeah, _what_? Do you think you're ready for something like that? Because if you're going to constantly be comparing me to someone from your past, I'll walk out without looking back. You understand that, right?”

“I wouldn't-” Jean takes a breath, he's collecting his thoughts when Eren speaks again.

“This... This is all new to me, you know. Like I don't know what I'm doing, so... You're gonna have to deal with the mistakes I make, too.” He says, fidgeting with his own earlobe as he speaks until it goes red. “But Jean, I'm serious. I'm not gonna be someone to just fill up your time. If you meant what you said, if you think I could become someone important to you, then I'm on board. Otherwise, I'm not gonna let you fucking hurt me. I'm not doing that to myself.”

Jean doesn't know how to put words to the thought that Eren is already someone important. He wants to say it, but he's forgotten words and his throat has gone dry so he can't speak. His heart is racing and his stomach is curled into tight knots. He can't identify the exact place or time that Eren had become so significant, only that at some point he had planted himself somewhere in Jean's being, taken root there, and begun to grow and fill in the little empty and hollow spots that were left. Eren's quiet for a moment. He can't read Jean's expression and it's starting to frustrate him.

“Say something.” Eren whispers, his eyes following Jean's face as he brings himself to sit up, meeting Eren at his level. Jean brings a hand to the back of Eren's neck and grips there firmly. When the other man makes no move of tensing or pushing away, Jean leans to press his lips to Eren's top one, cautious of the bruised bottom. Eren's eyes half lid. It's been a long time since they kissed and he wants to revel in it, the way it tastes and the rough feeling of Jean's unshaven chin against his own, but he can't because this isn't an answer. He can't accept this as an answer. He pulls back, and as soon as he does, Jean breathes out.

“I want this.” He says, his hand still on Eren's neck, keeping him close. He wants this. He wants to feel whole again. He wants to stop hating himself. He wants to actually feel like the person Eren sees him as when he's looking at him with those huge fucking eyes like there's no one else in the stupid fucking world.

Eren teethes on the good side of his bottom lip, closes his eyes and feels Jean's words as he breathes them so close to his face. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end beneath the secure weight of Jean's palm.

“I want to be with you.” Jean says finally, and it's exactly what the brunet needed to hear, because he smiles and shakes his head and looks down like he's embarrassed to have heard it said out loud.

“I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, for everything. I'm so sorry.” Jean says, repeating it like a mantra as he holds Eren's face with both hands and begins to kiss across it, the bruises and cuts left there. Each kiss is an apology that he hopes Eren will accept. When Eren cups his hands over Jean's he knows he's been forgiven, so he kisses a little harder, a little more urgently, only stopping when Eren winces because Jean's applied too much pressure too close to the bridge of his nose.

“Knock it off, you're hurting me,” Eren mumbles, but he's smiling as he says it, even as he turns his face away. He slumps down against the pillows until he's barely propped up by them anymore and looks at Jean, who's just staring back.

“Are the bruises that bad?” He asks while Jean's staring, and the blond shakes his head.

“I'm not paying attention to that.” He says, “I was just thinking.”

“About?” Eren prods, propping one hand behind his head and laying the other across his stomach.

“How I still feel like shit for treating you that way.” Jean mumbles low, sounding ashamed.

Eren shrugs, closes his eyes and sighs softly.

“You were drunk. And stupid. And you've made it pretty clear that you're sorry, so.” He opens his eyes to look at Jean, searches his features and sees the guilt in his gaze. 

“I'm sure that's not the last time you're gonna hurt my feelings if I hang around. But I'm over it, so you can get over it, too.”

Jean sighs, rubs the back of his neck and lowers his line of vision because yet again, he feels incredibly naked beneath Eren's gaze.

“If you're that sorry, then show me.” Eren says, nudging Jean with his knee.

“Bring me breakfast in bed.”

“All I've got is cereal.” Jean says as he concedes, raising himself to arch his back and stretch with a pop, to which Eren screws his face up in disgust at the sound.

“That's fine with me, but I'm eating it in your bed,” he says, crossing one leg over the other. 

Jean gets up with a frown, not completely alright with the idea but figures if Eren makes too much of a mess, blankets and pillows can at least be washed. He leaves the room and returns shortly after with two bowls of cereal, hands one to Eren, and then carefully slides back into bed himself.

“Awesome.” Eren says while spooning a heaping mouthful of Honey Bunches of Oats into his mouth. Not as sweet as he'd like, but still a decent cereal. 

“Thank you,” Eren says around the mouthful, and Jean just nods. Eren finishes his bowl before Jean is through with half, reaches past him to set his empty bowl on Jean's nightstand and arches a brow seeing the amount left in the blond's bowl.

“The hell, that shit's gonna be soggy as fuck,” Eren mumbles, rolling his tongue across his lips and feeling pretty good now that there's something in his stomach.

“Sorry I can't drill through it like you.” Jean huffs, and Eren leans back against the pillows while watching Jean eat. He chews so slowly and quietly that Eren wonders if he's actually chewing at all.

“Stop staring at me.” Jean says finally, bringing a spoonful of only milk to his lips and sipping it.

“Why? I'm not allowed to look at you?” 

Jean sets his half eaten bowl of cereal inside the one Eren left on the nightstand and meets his gaze.

“I just dunno what's so fascinating about me eating.”

“I dunno.” Eren sighs and slumps a little further down the pile of pillows collected at the top of the bed. “It's not that you're eating, it's just that it's your face.”

“What about my face?”

“You still haven't shaved for one thing.” Eren says, closing his eyes while his lips curl up into a little smile. 

“Also I kinda like your face anyway, so I'm gonna look no matter what you're doing.”

Jean pauses, feeling a little flustered, though he's not sure why. Hearing that Eren likes his face isn't the oddest thing that he's been told. “Shouldn't lay down after you eat.” He notes sort of mindlessly.

“I'm grown, I'll do what I want,” Eren says while folding his arms behind his head. When Jean doesn't respond, he cracks one eye open to look at him. Jean's thinking about something. His brow is set into a stern look, just sort of glaring at the folds in the sheets beneath them.

“Hey,” Eren says, nudging Jean with his foot. The taller looks up and the blank expression is gone.

“Aren't you gonna kiss me or something?” Eren asks, feeling heat creep into his ears.

“After that serious talk and you sayin' all that sweet stuff about you wanting me around, shouldn't you kinda make it official?”

Jean rubs the back of his neck where it's become warm, his eyes darting away from Eren's face for a moment before coming back to it. “I just wasn't sure if I was... Allowed?”

“ _Allowed?_ ” Eren bursts out laughing, rolling onto his side and holding his stomach in his fit. Jean's face flushes with embarrassment. It takes a moment, but Eren finally settles down, his laughter dissolving into short little breaths of amusement.

“Dude, fucking come here.” He says, gripping Jean's arm. The taller moves forward with Eren's tugging motion and hesitantly pauses before meeting their lips.

“But your bruises.” Jean mutters, and Eren slides his hand up Jean's arm, past his shoulder and around his neck.

“ _Ease them for me,_ ” Eren says low, and the words send jolts of electricity through Jean's nerves unlike anything he's ever heard and the atmosphere has completely changed in an instant. They move simultaneously to close the space between them now, and Eren can enjoy this kiss; the heat of Jean's lips against his own, the rough feeling of the stubble on his chin. He clutches at Jean's shoulders with both hands, and Jean leans over him. Eren feels wanted like this. Possessed. He parts his lips for a deeper kiss, and Jean is quick and more than happy to oblige.

Jean's movements are slow, sensual and sure. He's mapping out Eren's mouth in a way he's never done before, enjoying his taste and the feel of him and the smell of his breath as he exhales through his nose. The tip of Jean's tongue tickles the ridges at the roof of Eren's mouth, and the brunet moans softly in appreciation. They pull away only to get good breaths of air, and Eren smiles while Jean rubs the pad of his thumb along the shorter man's bottom lip to collect a bit of saliva.

“You look pretty cute right now,” Jean breathes, and Eren shakes his head in disagreement.

“With my face all bruised up? I doubt that.” He mumbles, turning the bad side of his face into the pillows, still keeping his arms wrapped around Jean's neck.

“They're not so bad.” Jean assures him, rubs a finger beneath Eren's chin so he turns his face out of the pillows again, and kisses just below the cut on his lip. The gesture makes Eren's heart swell, and he closes his eyes while holding his breath. His heart pounds every time Jean's lips land somewhere on his skin. His jaw, his cheek, tentatively at his nose, softly on his eyelid, and lastly his forehead. 

“You're being awfully affectionate,” Eren notes, still smiling. His voice is soft and sweet and it makes Jean's heart pound because he only gets this tone when they're alone like this. This side of Eren is reserved just for him. Jean swallows as his mouth suddenly goes dry. He pushes Eren's legs apart and kneels between them. Eren's knees hug Jean's hips and the long shirt he's wearing hikes up his thighs but it's still covering the most important bit, and Jean can't for the life of him think of anything that could possibly be sexier. 

Eren huffs out a breath while looking up at the blond, feeling excited and anxious and needy all at once. Jean looks back at him, really looks back at him, studying his features, bruised and all, and Eren feels defenseless. Jean looks at him with honest and pure want that's so different from the lust filled gazes he's given him before. Eren tries to shrink away from that gaze, hides behind his hand by obscuring the bottom half of his face with it, and looks away at nothing. Jean bends, kissing the open palm that Eren is using to shield his face, and the brunet's fingers twitch against the gesture. 

The blond then pulls back, sits on his haunches and runs his fingertips along smooth, caramel colored thighs. He feels Eren's skin crawl beneath his touch and his knees hug Jean's hips a little tighter. He hears Eren's breath hitch, and he can't help the satisfaction that surges through him. Eren glances up at the taller, red faced and with his slightly damp hair a mess against the pillow. His chest rises high and falls deep and his breathing becomes burdened with the inability to control his excitement. It's been too long since Jean has touched him like this. 

“I don't know where you found that old shirt, but you should probably keep it.” Jean says, and Eren is trying to keep it together, trying not to melt hearing Jean's voice teasing him.

“Tch. This ugly ass thing?” Eren manages, looking at Jean with half closed eyes. “I just grabbed the first thing I saw. I can't believe you own something as stupid as a nightgown.”

“It's a night **shirt**. Mom brought it back from France a long time ago, I dunno why she thought I needed it.” Jean explains, but the words aren't really sticking with Eren while warm fingertips are caressing the insides of his thighs.

“Y-yeah?” Is all Eren manages to breathe out, and then Jean's hands are all the way up, inside the shirt, caressing where his leg meets his hip.

“You're not wearing underwear?” Jean asks, biting the inside of his bottom lip and sucking while his eyes glaze over. His head's beginning to swim but he's playing it cool, keeping his voice sensual and smooth while Eren begins to writhe beneath his hands. He has no idea how fucking sexy he looks, disheveled and weak against Jean's ministrations. 

“It's not like... I was gonna put on a pair of yours... That'd be... too weird...” Eren manages between shaking breaths, biting the second knuckle of his pointer finger as Jean pulls his hands away without raising the shirt any higher, but it's painfully obvious through the soft, lightweight cotton that Eren is already half hard.

Jean slides back now, situating himself between Eren's legs where he nuzzles one of his knees. He's watching Eren's expression as he kisses him there, trails his lips up Eren's thigh, then repeats the motion on the opposite leg. Eren moans softly against the back of his own hand, his other clutching at the pillow where his head is resting. Jean's mouth feels like hot perfection against the sensitive insides of Eren's legs, the rough feeling of his unshaven face sending tingling little jolts of pleasure all across his skin causing him to mewl softly, arching and squeezing his eyes shut as Jean goes. He feels the blond's breath so close to that spot between his legs, and he holds his breath thinking his mouth is about to go there, but instead his hips are pulled suddenly and his legs are in the air over Jean's shoulders making him feel very, very exposed.

“Th-the hell're you doin'?” Eren asks breathlessly, clutching at the sheets beneath him while gritting his teeth and looking at Jean between his legs.

“Making it official.” Jean teases, and the smirk he flashes makes Eren melt like butter. 

Jean leans in now, palming at the tight globes of Eren's ass before pulling them apart and pressing his tongue flat against his entrance. The sound Eren makes is high; a mixture of pleasure, embarrassment, and slight panic as he tenses and moves like he wants to jerk away. He wasn't expecting this, but... but... _Fuck_ , it feels incredible.

“F-fuck,” Eren moans, and Jean feels him twitch against his tongue and the corners of Jean's lips turn up into a grin while he circles the ring slowly. Eren arches and trembles and he can't breathe, and then he feels Jean penetrate him and he loses his fucking mind. His toes go numb and both hands shoot between his legs to curl and twist and tug at the lighter part of Jean's hair. Jean bobs his head in a slow, rhythmic motion, pauses and flicks his tongue greedily against Eren's flesh, penetrates him again and wriggles his tongue inside. 

“My f-fucking **god**...!” Eren groans desperately feeling Jean's tongue caress his inside, slicking him with saliva. He's losing it. He starts babbling and praying thinking he's going to die because the pleasure that shoots up his spine has got his mind completely separated from his body. He doesn't even know his own name anymore, but he remembers Jean's because he's repeating it over and over like the most important prayer he'll ever utter in his lifetime. Jean's loving it. Hearing Eren gasp his name as though frantic only urges him on; the kindling to the fire in his blood. His dick throbs each time he hears his name said in that breathy way, and he groans against the brunet's skin.

When Jean pulls back, Eren is panting and his brow is furrowed dramatically. He's sucking on his own bottom lip and he looks at Jean with glazed over eyes that are demanding and unsatisfied. He wants more. There's a wet spot on the cotton shirt concealing Eren's erection, which is laying beneath the fabric against his own belly, twitching and throbbing with fervor. 

Jean can't hide the nice tent that's popped up in the stupid fucking sweatpants that he's wearing either, but the way Eren is looking at him, devouring the very sight of him, he decides he couldn't give a single shit. His blood is boiling and Eren _wants_ him, and that's all that matters.

“Jean...” Eren sighs between gasps, and the taller positions himself over the brunet, rubbing himself against Eren's bare backside and grunting softly at the friction between the heat of Eren's body and his own clothed erection.

“Eren,” Jean breathes in return, rolling his tongue across his own lips as he grinds a little harder, with a little more earnest. Eren purrs and moans softly with each roll of Jean's hips, clutching at his pants, urging him to thrust harder, _harder_ , **harder**. The brunet lets out a high keening sound as he feels Jean's clothed head slide against his entrance, and then he growls in frustration because he's only teasing him, dammit.

“Jean... Jean, _hurry_..” Eren says, rolling his hips with the blond's with a soft, pleading groan. Jean nuzzles his lips against Eren's temple, doesn't know where he manages to dig up a single lick of self restraint as he whispers back;

“Not yet.”

He reaches over the side of the bed and pulls open the drawer to his nightstand, retrieving a bottle of lube and a condom. He sets the little foil square on the mattress next to him, then pops open the bottle and slicks the cool liquid inside across his fingers. He rolls it between his fingers to warm it before his hand disappears from Eren's view, and he feels a slicked up fingertip at his entrance. Eren raises his hips from the bed, searching for Jean's finger eagerly. Jean smiles.

“You're acting awfully greedy,” he teases, and when Eren parts his lips to defend himself, he slips his finger inside and Eren gasps without uttering a word. Jean's finger angles inside in a come hither motion, caressing that sensitive bundle of nerves and Eren's cock twitches as he cries out and trembles where he lays. The sound Eren elicits makes Jean throb, and he breathes out a quiet groan of appreciation watching the brunet fall apart beneath him. He adds a second finger, kissing down the side of Eren's face, back to his ear where he nibbles on the lobe and tugs gingerly with his teeth. Eren responds with a whimper, high and desperate. It's still not enough. He wants something bigger and longer and more powerful. He wants Jean to fill him up and fuck him brainless. He tugs at the sheets in frustration, turns his face to Jean's and pleads against his lips.

“More. Give me _more_.”

Jean's self restraint is destroyed with just that. His fingers abandon Eren's body. He reaches to pull down his pants and underwear, gropes blindly for the condom that he's left on the mattress and begins to tear it open with trembling fingers. Eren watches him with that cloudy gaze, feeling filthy as he says;

“You don't have to.”

Jean pauses, holding the rubber between his fingers looking bewildered.

“H-huh?” He questions.

“It's alright. If we're gonna do this... You're only gonna have sex with me from now on, right?”

Jean nods stupidly and swallows. 

“So it's okay. You can cum inside me.” Eren breathes, and Jean's dick aches hearing it.

“...You're sure?” Jean questions, but he's already abandoned the condom somewhere in the sheets while Eren smiles up at him and nods.

“Yeah... I wanna feel it. I want you to dirty me up nice an' good,” Eren purrs, reaching down to pull the collar of his shirt up to his lips, biting down on the fabric and holding it in place. It hikes up enough to reveal his own dripping, eager length. 

“As long as it's just me an' you... We can do it like this.” Eren mutters into the fabric, and Jean reaches for the lube again to slather a generous amount along the hefty shaft of his cock. His fingers are trembling like he's a teenager about to lose his virginity, because he can't remember the last time he's fucked someone without a condom on, and he's elated and nervous and _so fucking ready_.

“Come on, babe.” Eren whispers through his teeth against the cloth he's biting, sounding inviting and sensuous and perfect. Jean's holding onto the base of his own dick, just staring at Eren, drinking him in from head to toe. His messy brunet hair against the white pillows is like ink spilled over a blank page, his bronzed skin flushed so bright even the bruises on his face seem more red than purple. His furrowed brow, parted lips, and intense eyes murky with longing. His chest rising and falling with every deep breath, his legs bent at the knee and trembling, wanting. His cute, flushed little cock oozing precum against his own belly, enticing and exposed and begging to be consumed. 

Jean thinks that like this, with Eren laid bare and open just for him, that he's probably the most beautiful creature to have ever existed.

“Jean,” Eren urges when he starts to get impatient, and he curls his toes as Jean lines up the head of his dick with Eren's hole. He's still for a moment, still taking in the sight of this person that he can't tell whether is an angel or a demon, and slowly eases inside. Eren releases a long, drawn out moan, biting desperately into the fabric between his teeth with a furrowed brow while rolling his head back. He arches slowly and twists his fingers into the pillow his head is rested against until Jean has seated his lengthy cock all the way inside. It's gone in smooth with the generous amount of lube, and Jean is so long and magnificent that Eren forgets to breathe as he's filled up to what feels like the brim.

Jean doesn't move at first. Eren's voice is surely what heaven sounds like, but the way his body takes in Jean's cock is nothing but pure sin. The inside of Eren's body is hot and sumptuous. The feel of his bare inside, tight and welcoming around Jean has got him gasping. He's trembling where he sits, unable to move at first because he's afraid he might cum if he does, and then Eren does this _thing_ where he clenches ever so slightly, urging him on, and Jean moans shamefully while clutching at one of Eren's hips, begging him to _please just be still for a moment_ and Jean decides at last that he surely must be a demon.

A bead of sweat rolls down the bridge of Jean's nose and falls to land somewhere that isn't important. He squeezes Eren's hip with one hand, the other at Eren's side on the mattress, supporting his own weight. Jean takes in a deep breath, lets out a trembling exhale as he draws his hips back and then forward again into Eren's body with a hushed moan. _Fuck, his insides feel fucking incredible._ Jean begins to thrust, losing himself to that perfectly maddening heat while watching Eren's hips roll in time with his movements.

Eren's knees cling to Jean's sides, his arms wound tightly around his shoulders while Jean moves. His rhythm is slow and deep and steady, and he's rubbing against that sweet spot and causing Eren to cry out with each thrust forward. 

“Jean... Jean, _fuck_... That's so _good_...” Eren praises mindlessly, his fingernails curling into the blond's shirt and tugging, pulling, twisting. Jean presses his lips to Eren's forehead, gasping into dark brown locks as his hips pick up just slightly. He's trying his best to ease the smaller body beneath into a more intense rhythm, but it's proving hard to control himself when Eren is squirming so deliciously beneath him. Eren drops the collar of his shirt from his teeth, and Jean tries to distract himself by gazing at the pulse point in Eren's neck, watching the muscles there flex and strain as he tries to keep his voice down, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. It doesn't help- mostly because Jean can't find a single part of Eren's body that he can't deem sexual. 

“Fucking _hell_ ,” Jean hisses, and Eren turns his mouth against the blond's ear, panting against it, moaning into it, urging him on. 

“ **Harder** ,” Eren insists, because he's already tired of this slow, vanilla shit and he wants to be _ravaged_ , and he knows Jean is more than capable of doing just that. He slides his fingernails down Jean's spine, hooking his fingers in the end of Jean's shirt and tugs it over his head. Jean has it off his arms and tossed off to the side in a swift motion without breaking his rhythm, which he's picked up via Eren's request. Hungry fingertips map out Jean's abdomen, chest, and arms. Eren can't fucking stand the way the veins in Jean's arms pulse as he moves and his muscles flex. He hooks his tongue at the corner of his lips, transfixed by those large veins and how powerful they look. Leaning forward, Eren presses his lips to Jean's shoulder, caresses his bicep, and then begins to kiss and suck across his collarbone. Jean makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl, and Eren loves it, so he sucks a little harder, begins to nip his skin, wanting to hear more.

Jean groans his approval, but he's not satisfied with the fact that Eren still has his wits about him. He pulls back, and thrusts forward with enough power that it slaps flesh to flesh, seating him deep, _so fucking deep_ and Eren tenses and stops what he's doing because _Jesus Christ_ that was perfect. Jean does it again, and Eren sees stars while moaning low, his voice rough from his throat going dry. 

“Oh my _God_... **Oh my God**... L-like that..!” Eren gasps, rolling his head back to expose his neck. Jean immediately places his lips over the pulse point that he'd been taken with just moments ago, parts them, and bites. Eren chokes on a gasped moan, dragging his fingernails along Jean's back. The blond hisses, but he doesn't mind the burn as his skin is torn because his hips are thrusting hard and deep and each advance makes a wet, flesh to flesh slap and it's dirty and vulgar and neither of them can get enough of it. It feels so good, so fucking incredible that Eren feels hot tears well behind his eyelids. He opens them and sees Jean's expression with determined, narrowed brow and teeth gritted. His skin is flushed, cute and pink and his lips are puffy from kissing. Eren winds his legs around Jean's waist, squeezes, and Jean opens his eyes and Eren sees they're glassy. 

Jean's losing his mind fucking into Eren, his cadence ruthless, even as their eyes meet. Jean notices the wet tears dancing in Eren's vision, and he smirks knowing Eren's not fairing any better than himself. Eren is gasping and moaning Jean's name, only silenced when Jean presses their lips together in a fervent kiss.

“You're so fucking sexy,” Jean breathes against Eren's lips, and the brunet whines like he doesn't agree.

“You should... fucking see yourself.” He continues, and then he has some kind of revelation. His hips slow and Eren whines because _fucking why are you stopping_ , and he groans with frustration as Jean pulls out, leaving him feeling empty.

“ **Jean** ,” Eren cries, squeezing him with his legs to keep him in place, but Jean unwinds Eren from around his body and pulls him up, like he wants him at the foot of the bed. 

“Come here,” he whispers, and Jean moves him so he's on his hands and knees, facing the foot of the bed while Jean positions himself behind him. He kisses the nape of Eren's neck, and those big green eyes flutter closed but he still doesn't understand why Jean would move him to the end of the bed like this with nothing for him to hold on to.

Jean suckles at the back of Eren's neck, and he teethes his bottom lip, going weak even before Jean begins to push inside him again. 

“A-aah...” Eren breathes, his hands fisting in the sheets beneath as Jean eases into him again, both hands situated on his hips and guiding them back with the movement of his own. Eren has his head bowed, eyes squeezed shut as he's taken from behind. It's not long before Jean's picked up to that grueling pace he'd set before, and he's biting across Eren's nape, making him a shuddering, crying mess. Eren feels a hand on his throat, warm and gentle, caressing his neck while tilting his face up, and Jean breathes against his ear.

“Look.”

Eren opens his eyes and now he grasps why Jean had moved him. He spots his reflection in the mirror atop the dresser that's only a couple feet from the foot of the bed. He's red faced, hair wild as he teethes on his own bottom lip. He looks shameful as he follows the line of his own arched body, down to his trembling thighs. He's not even naked but Eren's still never seen himself more lewd. Their eyes meet in the mirror, and Eren can't breathe as Jean thrusts powerfully into his body, smirking against his ear, growling into it.

“ _Look how fucking gorgeous you are._ ”

Eren tenses and whines softly, his entire body flushed with embarrassment because he's never been... _put on display_ before, and he feels vulnerable but the way Jean growls into his ear gives this sense of urgent want in a way that he's never felt wanted before. Eren is completely weak like this. The loose cotton that sits on his shoulders slips to one side, baring one of them while his brow furrows harder. He's keeping his eyes on the mirror, keeping his gaze locked with Jean's until the taller closes them and kisses that bared shoulder and thrusts particularly hard into him, causing him to sob out softly. Eren's arms tremble beneath his own weight and he thinks he might collapse as hot tears roll down his round, flushed cheeks. He can't think or function. All he is right now is nerves and pleasure and ecstasy. He feels that familiar heat and pressure in his belly, and knows he's not going to last much longer. 

“Eren,” Jean rumbles against Eren's shoulder, hot and breathy, and he feels Eren clench around him. It knocks the wind out of him, and he pounds harder, the hand on Eren's throat caressing the line of his neck affectionately as he feels Eren swallow and gasp, notes the vibrations of his cries against his palm. Jean feels his release building up, tighter and more tense, threatening to end this, but he wants to keep going just a little longer. _Please, just a little longer._ He looks at Eren's face in the mirror, all but lost, focused solely on the expression set across his tear streaked face, and he feels Eren trying words in his throat, but nothing is coming out but his cries. Jean caresses him there, soothes him, like the motion will help him speak, and Eren's brow twitches as he bites his lip and bows his head while gasping out softly.

“Jean, I-I'm.. gonna... c-cum...” And his voice is rough and tired and high, like the sweetest candy. Jean pulls back, no longer leaning over the smaller body and instead rights himself and grips both of Eren's hips. He pulls Eren's hips back hard to meet his brutal thrusts, and the brunet is babbling, utterly brainless, as he arches and whines and twists his fingers in the sheets beneath.

“G-gonna cum...! _Gonna... c-cum_..!” He yells, and the line of Eren's sanity snaps at last as the galaxy dances at his vision and he cums hard with a high sob of Jean's name. His entire body tenses and shudders and he clenches down on the long muscle fucking into him, but it keeps pounding, harsh and deep, milking him from the inside. Drool ebbs from the corner of his mouth and down his chin as he continues for several of Jean's thrusts to soil the sheets beneath him, shamefully gazing at his own reflection all the while. 

“God, _Eren_...” Jean nearly snarls as he watches Eren in the mirror, the way his lips part wide as he gasps when he cums. His cloudy green eyes are just barely open, watching himself with mixed embarrassment and fascination. The way his body tenses and trembles and rides out his orgasm with that shamed little expression drives Jean insane. He clenches his jaw and his vision goes white for a moment as the heat inside him bursts, his cock throbbing inside the warmth of Eren's body as he reaches orgasm. He keeps thrusting as he cums, gasping and holding tight to Eren's round hips, and the brunet moans as he feels his insides slick with Jean's seed until he feels like he's over flowing.

“ **Jean..!** ” He cries out, and he feels hot moisture dripping down the insides of his thighs as Jean keeps thrusting until he's through, his hips slowing, and finally stopping. He still holds Eren in place, but he collapses on his back and kisses his nape, and Eren's arms finally give out beneath his and Jean's weight and he's laying flat against the mattress while panting into the sheets.

Neither of them say anything at first. Eren is whining, trying to calm himself and return his breathing to some semblance of normality. Jean is still seated deep inside him and Eren whimpers as he shifts just slightly beneath his weight, his body throbbing, basking in the euphoric afterglow of orgasm. He feels Jean kissing the back of his head, breathing out hard through his nose and stirring his sweat dampened hair. Eren stretches and smiles and makes a little sound of appreciation.

Jean raises himself a bit, one hand rubbing at the small of Eren's back as he shifts his hips, slowly, carefully pulling out of Eren's body. The brunet whimpers softly, and Jean watches as his cum leaks from Eren's body. Eren feels Jean's eyes on him, suddenly very self conscious, and whines.

“S-stop looking...” He protests, reaching back blindly to grab at Jean anywhere he can, but unable to land a hand on him. Jean chuckles deeply, keeps rubbing at Eren's back, to which he groans in appreciation, and lowers himself again to nuzzle the tip of his nose to Eren's earlobe. Jean lays on his side, pulling Eren with him. One of his hands find the brunet's, and they lace their fingers, while the other secures itself around Eren's waist. Eren tangles their legs together, already feeling sore, but content and so fucking satisfied.

“That was _awesome_.” Eren praises, and Jean laughs at his choice of words, but it's so _him_ , so Jean doesn't mind. Eren arches back against Jean's frame even though their bodies are flush, feels the mess Jean's made and makes this soft, embarrassed sound in his throat. 

“Want another shower?” Jean asks, and Eren nods slowly, but he doesn't want to get out of bed just yet. He wants Jean to keep his arm around him, keep their fingers laced, their legs tangled. He curls up against him before rolling to face him, nuzzling beneath his prickly chin, then kissing it. Jean idly runs fingers through Eren's messy hair, his eyes falling closed. He feels like he could fall asleep again, perfectly sated. 

Eren looks up into Jean's half conscious face, relaxed and still flushed from exertion. He notes the long bridge of his nose, dark, relaxed brow, and his thin pink lips just barely set apart as he breathes slowly, dreamily. Eren swallows. He thinks staring at Jean too long when he looks like this could really land him in trouble, and his heart pounds. His vision then follows the long, sensual line of Jean's neck and he becomes distracted. When he realizes the blond has drifted off, Eren extracts his limbs from Jean's longer ones and sits up. Jean stirs, looks up at him, and rubs his palm along one of Eren's thighs.

“I'm gonna wash up. You should change the sheet.” Eren whispers, and Jean nods and grins like he's proud that it needs to be replaced.

“The hell're you smiling for?” Eren grumbles, pulls himself out of bed with a whimper because now that he's standing, the mess Jean left has really started to drip. Eren pulls the night shirt down and flush to his backside with a shamed expression while Jean just laughs.

“Stop laughing, idiot.”

Jean is still grinning when he meets Eren's gaze. “I can't help it, you look so fucking cute right now.” He says, trying to justify his laughter. “You're the one that said it was okay, you know.”

“I know what I said!” Eren's ears burn as he makes his way backwards toward the door because he doesn't want Jean to see the wet spot on the fabric he's got hugged to him. His legs feel weak and shaky. When his back finally bumps the door frame, he turns quickly to head for the bathroom.

Jean hears the shower water turn on and he gets out of bed, stripping the mattress with a grin.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fic I've ever written and I actually didn't have the balls to put it online until http://jeanbeauu.tumblr.com/ urged me to. Hope you guys enjoy! /)u(\


End file.
